


Poison & Wine

by Mara_DragonMaster



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Apples of Idunn, Brother Feels, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Child Loss, Dimension Travel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Loss, Flashbacks, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hela - Freeform, Helheimr | Hel (Realm), Horror, Hurt Thor (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki Comfort, Memories, Monsters, Near Death Experiences, Not Really Character Death, Protective Loki (Marvel), Reconciliation, Sad Thor, Strong Loki, Teamwork, Temporary Character Death, Thor (Marvel) Feels, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Trauma, World Hopping, dealing, depressed Thor, scheme, trap, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 06:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19079473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mara_DragonMaster/pseuds/Mara_DragonMaster
Summary: "You're not scared, are you?" Loki said, turning a sharp grin his way. Thor glared back at him. "Together." "Are you sure you wouldn't rather go first?" Loki teased, then shrugged at the look he received. "Oh well. If you insist. On the count of three?" Thor took Mjolnir from his belt and held it tightly. Loki tensed. "One," he counted. "Two. Three…"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In 2014, when I wrote this story, we suffered a loss in my family, and I find that when difficult things happen I tend to turn to writing fanfiction for my therapy. It works wonders. With that said I am not, by any means, an expert on the Marvel universe for Thor, so any discrepancy— and I am sure there are many— is completely mine. Still, I tried very hard to deliver a good story, so I hope you enjoy!

Thor stared up into the sky. He had almost given up on coming here, to this place in the desert, but still he came every day, waiting for hours and hours. The message had been brusque and to the point. So like the sender.

_"Your aid is required. Wait for me."_

So he did. For the first time in a month he had something to do, something to direct his mind away from the terrifying numbness that had encompassed it. Even if the 'thing' was only to sit in the sand and wait… and wait for what? He didn't know. But if Loki was actually  _requesting_  his help, he would wait forever. So he had come here, had made camp in the ruins of Puente Antiguo, and posted his vigil at the long abandoned bifrost site outside of town.

Thor blinked, squinting his eyes in the blinding light. Sand swirled around him where he sat, his legs crossed and tucked in, with Mjolnir resting on the desert earth beside him.

As still and as silent as a statue, Thor waited.

It was on his twelfth vigil that it happened. In the middle of a great wind that twisted his hair into tangled ropes and scoured his skin with unforgiving sand a voice suddenly spoke over his shoulder.

"So you've come."

The only response was the closing of Thor's eyes. Then he moved, gracefully pulling his feet beneath him and rising to his full height. He turned, Mjolnir in hand, and looked upon the fair, sharp featured face he'd never thought to see again. For a moment he said nothing. The ache that filled his being seemed to deepen, but it was hard to tell, as it had become such a part of him that he hardly felt it any more. Yet looking upon his brother's face there was also a deep glow that seeped through him, warming his chilled core. Loki looked good. Healthy, strong, clear; his eyes were still mocking, but Thor could ignore that right now. As casually as Loki stood there, feet apart, hands held behind him, head tilted, he could almost believe that it was just another adventure. An adventure like they used to go on, just the two of them, fraught with peril and the unknown and possible death, and wonderful because it was just them.

A small smile, the first in a long while, touched his mouth. "When do we start?"

Loki's face fell a fraction, his eyes sharpening. "Don't you want to know what I require of you?"

Thor shrugged. He really did not care. "You will do what you will regardless, and I will end up following anyway."

There was a huff. "You know, I always knew you were impetuous, but this is really taking it to a new height, Thor." Loki walked a few paces, shaking his head, his eyes full of reproach. "One would think you'd learned to look before you leap, what with all of the glorious fallout from your decisions of late."

Unbidden memories and regrets came with those words. They rushed through his mind like a wind, and were gone just as quickly. Thor clenched his fingers around his hammer, willing them not to shake.

"What, no protest? No rush to ask the questions you know you should be asking? To test if the word of the Trickster is worth trusting?" Loki's grin disappeared at the answering silence. "What is the matter with you?"

"You said you required my assistance." Thor said, shrugging. His hands and feet itched with pent-up energy.

White teeth bared, indignation and frustration flashing in green eyes. "Yes, unfortunately." He said. "That doesn't excuse your idiocy."

"If I asked, would you tell me?"

"If I told you, you might not go. Distrust of your evil brother, and all that."

"Are you going to destroy the Nine Realms or harm any innocents?"

The grin was instant and feral. "Wouldn't you like to know."

A flash of frustration rose up at his brother's deliberate difficulty, but the response died on Thor's tongue, heavy and empty. It would only add fuel to Loki's fire, and Thor was weary of getting burned. So he said nothing, only watched as Loki waited for his response.

When none came Loki gave him a look. "There have been some disturbances." He said. "Hela acting up again."

Ah.

"When do we start?"

Loki smiled.

The sand swirled. When at last it settled, the desert was empty once more.


	2. Chapter 2

Wherever they'd ended up, it was twilight. They made camp, and as they sat before the fire trying to stay warm Thor asked, "What is Hela doing?"

"She's stealing souls again, from all over the Nine Realms." Loki said, poking a stick into the fire, shifting the logs and encouraging the flames. "I'm not sure of her reasons this time."

"Is there anything I should know?" Thor said, pulling his cloak tightly about his shoulders as he looked across the fire.

Loki looked impressed. "Look at you." He said. "Asking questions. Will wonders never cease! Of course anyone with any sense would have asked them BEFORE starting on this little jaunt, but I suppose this is still an improvement for you."

Thor tightened his hold on his cloak, averting his eyes down to the fire. "If I am to help," he murmured, "Tell me what I must know."

"And ruin the surprise?"

Loki was baiting him. There was that familiar glint in those green eyes, that expectation behind the mocking smile, and the corner of Thor's mouth rose. Loki had always baited him. He was cruel with it now, but still… still, it was a tendency of his brother's. A familiar trait. Thor remembered how often Loki had done this exact thing to him when they were youths, refusing to give him a straight answer and dancing his words in circles around Thor until he was furious with frustration.

And here he was, doing it again.

Loki scowled, leaning back. "What is so funny?"

Thor shook his head. It felt good to smile again. "You, brother."

"We're NOT brothers." Loki snapped, face sharpening with anger.

The warmth of memory vanished, and Thor's face fell. Old words, habitual words, rose in his mind but they tasted like ashes on his tongue. We ARE brothers. I love you. Have you forgotten? All our years together?

He did not speak.

Loki threw another log onto the fire, and poked at it to coax the flames to their full strength. He looked across it at Thor, and frowned. "What? No protest? No declaration of brotherly love and loyalty?"

"Would you believe me?" He asked, hating the sound of hope in his voice.

The silence was enough. Though he had known the answer, Thor still felt the sharp ache in his heart. "Wake me for my watch." He whispered, and turned his back to the fire, laying down with his head on his pack, wrapping his cloak around himself as best he could.

It was better this way, he thought as he sank slowly into sleep. If he avoided their old disagreements, he could save his heart the pain of Loki's sharp words, and perhaps… perhaps then he could pretend that they were just them, on another adventure.

He felt so tired.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The next morning they were quiet as they rolled up their packs and put out the fire. There was little food but for the bit of bread Loki magicked out of the air and some dried meat Thor had brought.

Jerky, Jane had called it.

Her favorite was teriyaki…

Thor coughed on the mouthful, and put the rest back in its wrappings.

"Not hungry?" Loki commented, eating his without preamble. He took a bite, and then looked at the remaining piece of jerky with interest, seeming to ponder the flavor.

Thor tied the small bag to his belt, and then shook out his cloak and swung it around his shoulders, securing it. The cold of night was dissipating, but it was slow to do so, and he shivered in the damp air.

"You dreamed."

Thor paused. "You said nothing when you woke me to watch." He rumbled, careful to sound unaffected.

Those eyes… those green eyes had a physical touch, they stared so hard, and Thor tried not to look at Loki knowing that his brother would discover more than Thor wanted him to.

"You called for your mortal."

The knife twisted in his gut. Thor clenched his jaw so hard he was afraid he might shatter bone. Standing swiftly he picked up Mjolnir, and then rounded on Loki, his face carefully schooled and his eyes empty. "How many jumps to Hel?" He growled.

Loki threw the last handful of dirt on the fire, staring up at Thor with an expression that made him quake with their perceptiveness. "Unwilling to speak of your mortal?" Loki drawled, tone lazy but eyes sharp. "Your shining angel who moved you defy kings and fight powers beyond your understanding?"

"We should be moving." Thor said, unwilling to rise to the challenge. This was his, and his alone. He would not allow Loki to sully it with his barbs and mockery.

He owed her that much.

"She left you, didn't she." A knowing, triumphant gleam entered Loki's eyes, sure he had discovered the secret. "These mortals; claiming love and loyalty forever, and what do they know of it? They, with their short lives and their whims that change with the wind. How truly terrible for you."

Thor did not answer. As quickly as the rage rose up and touched his tongue with its heat, it disappeared, and he felt himself deflate. He stood without expression, his lips glued firmly shut, refusing to give in.

It was always the same, these conversations with Loki. Banter turned to anger and insults.

He was so tired.

Loki waited expectantly, but nothing came of his challenge. He frowned. "Oh come on." He said. "Nothing? Good lord… Cat got your tongue? Or has Earth dulled whatever sense you had left?"

Thor adjusted his pack, and then looked at Loki, patiently waiting.

"You have become dull." Loki complained.

"Give me a direction to walk." Thor whispered.

For a moment Loki stared at him, and then he snarled. "Fine." He turned and began to walk, his long legs moving in strong, sure steps. "This way."

Without a word, Thor followed.

The landscape was rough rock and scraggly vegetation. Cold air and damp patches of earth that sank into muck and foul water. It unnerved Thor how well Loki navigated, knowing exactly where to put his foot so that he did not sink and disappear without a trace. Where had he traveled and what had he done during the past six months, Thor wondered? What edges had he explored, what had he discovered and learned? Of course Loki had always been absolutely fearless, willing to go places that Thor would never have dared to. His sharp eyes had always been hungry for new knowledge, relishing the unexplored that was his and his alone, should he dare study it.

So had Jane…

Thor tripped on a stone, and the vegetation beneath his feet became suddenly slick and without purchase. He threw out his arms with a shout of warning, and then he was gone.

It was like being enveloped by frozen porridge, thick and almost impossible to move. Slippery, knotted things tangled around his feet and arms, trapping him and pulling him further down. Thor tried opening his eyes but he could see nothing, and it burned his eyes with unforgiving cold. He felt Mjolnir on his belt, and tried to reach for it, thinking he could use it to fly out, but his arms had become so entangled that he could not move.

LOKI! His mind cried out. LOKI!

His chest ached and his lungs burned and he could feel his consciousness fading. There was no movement.

There was nothing.

The blackness filled his mind, even as the cold around him became disturbed and he felt movement around his limbs. He knew it was the end.

The cold rushed into his body, consuming him, and he grew dark.

A moment later— or was it an eternity— the cold within was disrupted. He coughed, gagging as it spewed from his mouth. Frighteningly strong hands clamped over his shoulder and back and turned him on the solid rock, rough in their handling, but sure and safe.

His chest and throat burned…

Air…!

"Breathe, you idiot! You have to breathe in, not just cough out."

And after what seemed to be another eternity he finally was able to breathe in, great, deep breaths that filled his lungs with cold yet delicious air. Thor blinked and rolled back onto his back, gasping and staring up at the sky as he regained his bearings. He saw Loki, staring down at him with burning intensity, his right arm and side drenched.

"Loki…" he rasped.

"How many times do I have to remind you to watch where you step!" Loki snapped, eyes narrowed with anger, and he swept to his feet.

Thor sat up, and saw the mess of knotted plants still tangled around his feet and legs and hands. The surface of the weeds was rough, sticking stubbornly to his skin as he tried to remove them, and they were stretched and torn and even burned from the force of Loki's strength and magic.

Burned. Underwater.

Thor noted the scorch marks on his clothing with some dismay and awe. He looked up at Loki.

"Don't insult me with your sentiment." Loki growled. "I need your brute force to fight Hela so I'm free to do my part. Nothing more."

Thor ignored the intended hurt of Loki's words, and chose instead to digest the information he had just learned. "I am your distraction." He said hoarsely, pushing himself to his feet and unclasping his cloak.

"Of course. You're perfect for it, with your 'subtle' way of fighting." Loki snapped. He shook his right hand, flinging murky water through the air. "Now let's get out of here before you drown us both with your clumsiness."

Still breathing deeply, Thor gathered his cloak into a bundle, and wrung it out as best he could as he walked. If he had been cold before now he was freezing, his wet clothes clinging to him and setting a chill in his bones.

Loki led him at a grueling pace, which he found to be tiring but also warming, and so he was grateful. A biting wind picked up, which dried his clothes but blew so hard in their faces that it made their eyes tear up so they could hardly see.

"How much further?" Thor called out above the wind's howl.

"Not far…" Loki called back, holding a hand in front of him like a shield. He paused and looked around, and then pointed. "There!"

It was a rock outcrop to their left; Thor could not see what was beyond it. Trying to keep his footing on the slick path he followed Loki to it, and saw that beyond the rock was an expanse of dark, thick, weed-ridden water, stretching as far as he could see.

It was an ocean.

"We must jump here." Loki said.

Thor stared at him in disbelief, and then looked down into the foulness that lapped at the base of the outcrop. He had just been rescued from such depths, and now they were to jump willingly back in?

"You're not scared, are you?" Loki said, turning a sharp grin his way.

Thor glared back at him. "Together."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather go first?" Loki teased, then shrugged at the look he received. "Oh well. If you insist. On the count of three?"

Thor took Mjolnir from his belt and held it tightly.

Loki tensed. "One," he counted. "Two. Three…"

Darkness and cold sludge surrounded him again. Thor fought the immediate rise of panic, but as quickly as it surrounded him it disappeared, and he felt himself falling and falling and falling, and then with a jar he fell out of the blackness and into blinding light and onto something soft and green. The breath left his lungs with a woosh, and he gasped, staring up into a brilliant blue sky.

"Why must the way to Hel be so complicated?" He groaned, wincing as he rolled from his back to his knees.

"To discourage people like us, I should imagine." Loki grunted, pushing himself to his feet and looking around.

"How many jumps do you suppose there are this time?"

"How on earth am I to know?" Loki continued to look around, seeming to search for a direction.

"It was a hope." Thor gained his feet slowly, and surveyed their surroundings. They had landed on top of a sunlit rise, and around them was a lush, green forest with other small, grassy hills rising here and there amongst the foliage. "Last time there were only two, but the time before it was twelve."

"Yes, Thor. Thank you for reminding me. I'd quite forgotten."

Thor glanced in exasperation at his brother. But he bit back his retort.

Loki closed his eyes, lifting his chin, and then his eyes snapped open and he began to walk. "This way." He called over his shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

For a while they walked in silence. The air was fresh and balmy, thick with pollen and humming with the sound of insects. Their pace was good, and Thor was content. For the moment, walking side by side with his brother in the quiet and the peace, it was as if nothing had ever changed.

For a good hour or so he was able to bask in it.

"I am surprised she let you come. Unless you lied to her, of course."

Thor did not respond to the questing tone.

"And Odin." Loki continued to muse. "With his all-seeing eye. I would have thought he'd have interfered while you waited in the desert. Sent down a guard to apprehend me, or stop you. Unless he has disowned you completely. After all, you did disobey his express command, and then gave up the throne for a mortal." He glanced sideways at Thor. "How's that working out for you, by the way? Everything you expected?"

Thor clenched his teeth, the muscle working in his jaw. He cursed his natural his tendency to talk and to share, because it was so hard to say nothing for any length of time, and Loki was nothing if not persistent. And the more he said nothing, the more interested Loki was going to get.

"With her complete adoration of you it must be nice, having someone at your beck and call every moment of every day. I mean, you knew her for what, two days before you left and she waited for you for two years? And now you've been together for six months. I can just imagine how wrapped around your finger she is by now."

The necklace around his neck, hidden beneath his shirt, felt heavier than it should have, the metal rings cool against his skin. The sensations brought with them memories, unbidden and unwanted, and Thor looked steadfastly ahead, deliberately turning a blind eye to them.

"I suppose you've set up a nice little home by now." Loki continued on, striding forward as though he hadn't a care in the world. "Full of domesticated comforts and pleasures. She probably brings you your coffee and kisses you good morning and tells you how wonderful you are every time you go off and save the world with your 'Avengers.'"

Thor's vision grew unsteady. She had been ill for a few weeks; he wasn't very good whenever she was ill. He didn't know what to do, and hated feeling useless, so he did whatever he could… It would drive her nuts how he never seemed to stop when she was sick. She said it made her dizzy. So he tried to remember what his mother had done when he and Loki were sick. He brought her tea, and he read to her. It never mattered what it was, as she said she just loved listening to his voice… so he started with some classics she had once mentioned loving. A writer by the name of Jane Austen. They read through four of her books before Jane finally went in to the doctor to see what was wrong…

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Thor blinked and looked at Loki, who lowered his waving hand and stared at him.

"Were you even listening?" Loki snapped. "Or did you tune me out, as always?"

"You've been telling me of your theories as to my life on earth." Thor said.

"Yes, and receiving very little for my trouble. You have become annoyingly secretive recently."

Still feeling the prick of memory, Thor's tone was short. "Perhaps I am learning from my brother's example."

That earned him a sharp look, but he ignored it. His fingers tightened and loosened around Mjolnir's handle in a steady pulse and he breathed in deeply through his nose, inhaling the heavy scent of the pollinating flowers and spicy bark of the trees. It grounded him, helping to pull him away from the mists of the past. He didn't know how long he could go like this, but he would go as long as he could, avoid it as long as possible, because it felt like a great darkness following close upon his back, and if he stopped…

"You know, I don't actually know what I would have done had you insisted on taking the throne at first." Loki mused quietly, switching topics. "It was quite the pleasant surprise that you didn't want it. Of course I couldn't stay when my little ruse was found out… but that hardly matters now. Still, I must say I am very disappointed in the lack of pursuit on Odin's part. I would hate to discover that I'm considered… 'obsolete.'"

"Not to father."

"So it's out of the goodness of his heart that he does not search for me." Loki deadpanned.

Thor's eyes tightened, his brows pulling together as the words grated over the open wound.

The expression, however minute, was not missed by Loki. His glance was bright with sudden curiosity and wariness, and for a while he was silent, though Thor could feel the weight of his gaze.

The time passed. Loki watched the ground as they walked, and his expression was pensive and brooding, the green eyes bright with contemplation. "Why are you here?" He asked slowly, and then continued on without waiting for the answer that wasn't coming. "After our last encounter, I had expected a  _bit_  more of a battle to get you to come along, and  _some_  struggle, at least, along the way."

 _Because I don't know what I'm doing anymore,_  Thor thought in answer.  _Because if I stop long enough to think it will catch up, and I will be swallowed up by the void and lost._

Loki looked upon Thor, studying him with a critical eye, attempting to read the neutral mask Thor had worked so hard to construct. "And there is no way Jane would have let you come along with me. Not after your discovery of my little Asgardian adventure."

Thor remembered; the call from Heimdall that his true father had been found, hidden and cloaked with magic, in his brother's old cell, wizened and white despite the Odinsleep. Thor had returned to Asgard that same hour, with Jane's plea for him to stay safe.

He had arrived just in time to see his 'father', all in his armor, grin at him from the throne and wink in a manner all too familiar.

And then he had vanished.

"Are you all right?"

He started and looked to the side to find Loki staring at him, a frown marking the dark brows. "What?"

Loki's frown deepened, and he brought himself to Thor's elbow as they walked, suddenly watching Thor keenly. "I said, are you all right?"

Thor's lips pressed together, and he turned his face forward. The automatic answer of 'I'm fine' rose to his tongue, but he knew that Loki would never buy the lie. It would be an insult to his brother's intelligence to even try. So he said nothing.

"Your unnatural silence is getting on my nerves."

"Perhaps I simply have nothing to say."

"Never that. Not you." Loki matched his lengthening stride easily. "So what is it? What's the big secret?"

Thor's face hardened, an unnatural anger starting to simmer deep in his gut.

"You might as well tell me. I'll find out eventually anyway."

The flippant tone added fuel to the low burn, and Thor's fingers tightened around Mjolnir. Words fought within him, battling for dominance. "It's nothing you need to know."

"Ah, see, now you've interested me. Now I do need to know."

He vow of silence was wearing thin, burning away as he bared his teeth.

"You have been acting strange this entire trip."

"I have not."

"Oh no?" Loki glanced sideways at him. "No attempts to rectify our 'relationship'. No declarations of love and faith. No pleas for me to come home, or promises that we can make it right. I have baited you and insulted you and questioned you and you have said nothin…"

"What would you have me do?" Thor shouted, rounding on Loki with such anger that his brother actually took a step back. His pulse thrummed through his limbs, fury making him shake. "Answer you, beg and plead with you, spill my heart to you? Just so you can spit at it and throw it in my face  _again_? You only ever believe me a fool and liar, so what is the  _point_!"

Loki stared at Thor, shock as clear as glass in his green eyes.

Thor turned away and started to walk again, quickly pulling ahead.

It was a few minutes later that his brother's presence was once more at his side.

Loki did not say another word.

* * *

By nightfall they had traveled deep into the woods. Beneath the branches of some old fruit trees they made camp for the second night, the fire glowing and spitting as sparks floated lazily up from the flames.

Thor leaned back against a log, resting his head against its high curve, staring into the flames as they danced merrily in the dark. The ache inside had deepened since the afternoon, and he sagged beneath its weight. Loki had snared several small, furry animals and made short work of prepping and roasting them. It had been delicious.

They still hadn't spoken.

He no longer cared if his misery showed or not. As much as he hated and dreaded Loki's mockery and scathing remarks, he hated the silence just as much. Possibly more. He longed to speak, to say something… anything… to share some of what was bottled up inside, to relieve some of the pressure, but every time the words touched his tongue he just as quickly swallowed them back. He wasn't sure if he could bear the sting of Loki's words on this particular wound.

He didn't even know his own mind anymore, he thought with consternation. He sighed, slouching against the log and pulling his cloak around him.

He was so tired.

"Thor," Loki said quietly from across the fire. "Where is Odin?"

Thor closed his eyes, wishing that those simple words didn't hurt as much as they did.

He heard a sharp breath, and he knew that Loki knew.

He opened his eyes and stared into the fire. "It was your name on his lips." He murmured at long last. "Your face he looked for as his sight departed."

There was silence for a few minutes. "And you are not on the throne?" Loki asked, his voice carefully even, but Thor knew better; just as he had known in the prison, after their mother.

"The council and generals do not trust my loyalty to Asgard." He mumbled, wishing his chest didn't ache so. "Perhaps it is just as well. Heimdall is a wise ruler."

"And you are now forever free to live your own life, just as you wanted." Loki commented, his voice a bit rougher than usual. "Your mortal should be pleased."

Thor clenched his teeth and sucked in a harsh breath, banishing the memories even as they rose with a greater vengeance than before. He wished Loki would not mention it. It was becoming harder and harder…

The darkness inside loomed suddenly beneath him, and Thor rose to his feet with a rush of motion and called Mjolnir to his hand, knuckles white as he caught it. "I'm going to get more wood." He said without looking at Loki, and walked away.

There was no trouble finding dry tinder. As he worked his limbs trembled, and he felt flushed and hyper-aware. It took a little while for it to ease, before he felt able to return. He added the last piece of wood to his stack and sighed, lifting it. Loki would be insatiable now. If only he wouldn't push; he didn't know, couldn't know, how his words hurt so right now. Couldn't know that the mere mention of… He just didn't know, and Thor knew he would have to do better at not over-reacting.

After all, Loki was all he had now.


	4. Chapter 4

When Thor returned to the camp Loki was sitting still before the fire, back straight and legs crossed, arms lazily draped over his knees. His eyes were almost black as he watched Thor, glittering with a razor sharpness that made Thor want to cower away. He did not look at Loki, avoiding the piercing gaze as he carefully added his load of wood to the stack they'd gathered earlier. Then he sat down in his old place across from the fire, sitting against the log and sighing.

"You married her." Loki said. His voice was low, forming each word as though he were unearthing an ancient mystery. "Barely a month after returning; Heimdall reported it to me… the marriage of my 'son'. Yet you are wearing the rings around your neck."

Thor eyes snapped up, and he saw Loki's face, pale with intensity, eyes dark and unblinking and  _knowing_  as he put together the pieces. A fire began to burn in those green depths, and Thor felt his breath catch and his stomach clench.

"I saw your joy when you learned her illness was cause for celebration, not concern. How tenderly you held her and kissed her." Loki continued, seeming not to care about the effect of his words upon Thor's countenance. "The only wrinkle in your perfect life was my deception, which you came and were done with in a matter of days. And since you are not king you  _should_  be at home with your mortal, picking out names and indulging in a life of matrimonial bliss. Instead you are here with me, after dropping everything and camping in the desert for twelve days. Why?"

Thor couldn't move. It was taking everything he had to ignore the memories screaming in his head, demanding that he  _look_  and  _remember_.

"Say her name." Loki demanded.

Thor's mouth opened with a breath. "What?"

"You have not said one word about her this entire trip. As if she doesn't exist." Loki stood up, and the fire in his eyes was bright and harsh, his form looming and dangerous. "Say her name."

Thor scrambled to his feet, suddenly feeling cornered. He was not quick enough to escape as his boots bumped into the log and Loki crossed over the fire and into his space, crowding him with his body, inches from his face.

"Say her name."

Thor ground his teeth. "Enough."

"Say her name."

"Loki, enough."

"Say it."

" _Shut up_!"

"Jane!" Loki voice rang through the air, and everything fell silent. "Her name is Jane! Your  _wife_! The mother of your  _child_!"

Thor stared at him, breathing hard, his pulse racing.

"Where is she, Thor?" Loki asked, his tone clipped. "Where is your Jane?"

His vision blurred. His throat grew so tight it hurt, but he still held it back.

Not here. Not now.

And in that moment, his brother knew.

The fire retreated in Loki's eyes, and the lines of his face softened. "So." He murmured. "In the space of six months, you have lost your mother, your father, your wife and your child." For a beat Loki just looked at him. Then he dropped his eyes, lingering for a moment at the chain disappearing beneath the collar of Thor's shirt.

"Did you mourn?" Loki whispered.

He was too close, too deep in his personal space; Thor needed air. He slid sideways and around Loki, escaping and walking several paces away, breathing heavilly. With jerky motions he knelt beside the wood stack and pulled out several pieces, adding them to the waning fire and encouraging the flames.

"Don't do this, Thor. You are not like this. You must talk."

But Thor didn't talk. He didn't know how, because how can one talk of something they don't think about? His mouth was full of ashes and he ached, and all he could do was keep his back to his brother. "I'll take first watch." He said hoarsely.

Loki hissed behind him, venom and frustration in the sound, quick boot-steps moving away. "Fine." Loki spat, sitting down on the other side of the fire and crossing his arms. "Be miserable and heartless then. Why should I care?"

* * *

The night was long, but uneventful. Thor spent the hours of his watch in misery. Memories were escaping through the cracks caused by Loki's words, and he would catch himself suddenly startling at the slightest sound, his heart hammering with remembered fear and adrenaline. He had not been tired in the least when the night had started, but when at last it was Loki's turn he couldn't have been more glad to relinquish his post and escape into sleep. Without a word he touched Loki's shoulder, waking him instantly, and without a word Loki rose and took his seat by the fire, while Thor laid down upon the makeshift bed of packs and cloak. He closed his eyes, limbs heavy, and soon enough he felt the pull of sleep.

He dreamed. Or rather, he remembered. Remembering with chilling clarity; he was reliving it, he must be… Jane slipping on the icy sidewalk and falling. Her laughter as he helped her up, and her frustration as they headed to the hospital. How she'd reassured him that everything was most likely fine, that it was procedure for an expectant mother to be hospitalized for a 24 hour observation after falling on the ice, to make sure the baby was fine. Precautionary, she said, as the cab navigated its way along the busy, frozen streets.

What do you think of Rose for a girl? she'd asked, her eyes sparkling.

And then the impact. The spinning and screeching and rolling, where down became up and up became down and nothing was right and then… nothing. Just an eery nothing as things blurred in and out of focus…

… _There was a high-pitched sound in the distance, growing louder and louder till it hurt his ears, and Thor suddenly realized— as his senses returned—that it was the car horn. His heart was hammering in his chest, hard enough steal his breath, and his thoughts were a jumble of panicked questions. The cab was upside down, and he was half hanging in his seat belt, half slumped on the crumpled ceiling of the car. He looked to the side. It suddenly became harder to breathe. "Jane?" He rasped, reaching and pulling against the unrelenting belt, catching her white face in his hands. Her dark eyes stared at him in shock, so large and so frightened, her lips trembling as she tried to say his name. He carefully pulled her hair free from the blood on her face, running from her nose. "It's okay," he said breathlessly, smiling reassuringly at her, nodding as she locked her eyes on his. "It's okay." He said again. "It's okay…" And then he had noticed that her skin was not just pale, it was white. Too white. She opened her mouth, tried to say his name, but she had no air and he couldn't figure out why until she coughed and the red stained her mouth and her chin._

_'I'm sorry' she mouthed._

_His heart seized. "No," he begged, stroking her face. He began pulling at his seat belt, panic setting in. "No, no, no! I don't— Jane! It's going to be okay!"_

_Tears filled her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. 'I love you' she mouthed. 'I love you… I love y…'_

_"No! Jane!"_

_Someone was shouting, tools were ripping at his door, something was cutting his belt, and then hands were grabbing him and pulling him out, and he was screaming at them…_

_"Sir, we've got you."_

_"No! Get Jane! Get my wife!" He started sobbing as they dragged him out, and he was trying to hold onto her hand but her fingers slipped free and they were pulling him away and they were LEAVING her and he was screaming at them "GET MY WIFE! DON'T LEAVE MY WIFE! JANE…!"_

… _and it hadn't mattered, because she was dead and he was not, and there was nothing but a crushed car in the middle of rush hour and crowds of people and no one to help him as he was taken away in the ambulance, with his Jane laying across from him, and there was nothing… nothing but holding her hand… nothing as he said her name over and over and over again…_

… and Thor caught his breath with a drowning gasp, his heart hammering within his ribs, his own screams still echoing around him as he scrabbled for purchase, the sensation of spinning and rolling and desperation and hopelessness a blinding whirlwind, and he couldn't get away from them, they just kept grabbing him and holding him and he couldn't catch himself…

"Thor! Thor, stop it! It's all right!"

… the world still tipped and tilted, and metal still screeched and his fingers clawed for a hold, reaching out desperately and searching for her as he heard Jane scream… And then he found a hand, and he clutched at it and it held him and it was strong and it kept him from spinning away, and another hand was on his back, rubbing firmly, safe and grounding.

Thor saw the dirt, saw the claw marks and the scuffs and grooves he had made in his wild, unconscious scrambling. The packs were several feet away, shoved and thrown, the firelight casting a strong and real light over everything. He heard someone gasping, and knew it was him. Loki's fingers tightened over his hand, unbothered by how crushing his grip was, knuckles white and shaking. Loki's hand stayed on the back of his shoulder, warm and solid and steadying.

"It's all right, Thor." Loki said quietly. "It was just a dream."

But Thor shook his head. It may have been over a month, a month in which he'd managed not to think about it, but now that he was he couldn't stop and he could taste the fumes and see her whitening skin and feel the unnatural, slippery heat of her blood and see her large dark eyes as she tried to tell him…

"Breathe, Thor." Loki murmured. "Just breathe."

' _I love you_ ' she'd tried to tell him.

His hand shook in Loki's; he could feel hers grow cold.

His Jane.

His child, and his Jane.

Loki's hand tightened on his shoulder.

Thor growled and shoved him roughly away, pushing himself to his knees and moving away… getting away, getting some space, but it didn't work. He couldn't get away from her face, looking at him and mouthing 'I love you.'

He leaned against the log, laying his head against it, the bark rough against the side of his forehead. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

The emptiness of the forest surrounded him.

Harshly, soundlessly, the grief rushed and poured out like an unchained beast, so hard and fast that he couldn't breathe. There was a scraping sound in the dirt, and then the feeling of a presence at his side, and a hand on his shoulder. Thor shuddered and instinctively pulled away, but two arms, as strong and hard as iron, wrapped around him and held him secure against warm leather and rough fabric.

His father and mother never saw him marry, would never see grandchildren. Would never know how much he loved them, or how very, very sorry he was.

He would never hold his child.

He would never, ever again hold Jane.

The darkness that had chased him, the emptiness that had threatened him, opened up in a void beneath him and he began to fall. They were all gone, and he felt so alone.…

He turned his face into the leather and cloth of Loki's shoulder, the scent of his brother filling and surrounding him.  _I didn't tell her I loved her._

His brother. All of this loss, all of them gone… but his brother.

Loki's arms tightened around him. "She knew." Loki whispered, and held him.

And Thor broke, and let himself fall.


	5. Chapter 5

Their movements were quick. Their postures were tight. Hard lines and hard motions. They put out the fire and gathered their packs and started walking with barely a word, but the air was ripe with what was unsaid. They kept their eyes averted from one another— except for when they thought the other wasn't looking.

Loki led, and Thor followed. Loki was silent, his eyes narrowed in that brooding, pensive way he had when he was in deep contemplation.

For the moment Thor didn't mind the silence. He felt drained and empty now, but at the same time the emptiness brought with it a clear air to his mind, as though he could breathe and blink and think again. And with that new breath came a slow, white hot burn. Hela was taking souls. People whose time had not yet come, in the middle of their lives, stolen and taken to Hel— and for what purpose? Her attacks were normally coordinated, planned. Heavy strikes in an attempt to take over one world or another, but this was sporadic and half-hearted— though no less devastating— all over the Nine Realms.

He glanced at Loki.

"Where have you been?" He asked quietly.

Loki blinked and looked at him, his eyes clearing of whatever thoughts filled his mind. "Nowhere that concerns you." He said, returning his gaze deliberately to their path.

"You know it's Hela." Thor said, watching him. It felt good to talk again, so he kept at it. "Souls from all over the Nine Realms, random and in no number great enough to cause alarm, and yet you know."

"Again, I applaud your attempts at 'asking before leaping', but questions like this one would have been better asked  _before_  accompanying me. At this point there is little point in gauging my reliability."

"You are rarely wrong, Loki. I do not question that. I am merely wondering  _how_  you know."

"I have my sources." Loki answered, looking up and sniffing, as though testing the air. He looked curiously to one side, and then to the other, craning his neck, and then he adjusted their course and took them deeper into the trees. The warmth of the sun did not entirely disappear, but it was much cooler under the dense canopy that now engulfed them.

"I  _know_  you have sources." Thor said, holding up an arm as the branch Loki had pushed out of the way slapped back at him. "What clued you in? What evidence did you find?"

"The usual, when it comes to Hela." Loki looked up at a river now tumbling on their left, and at a great rock jutting out from the middle of it. It was easily as large as a small house, with foaming water rushing around and on either side of it and falling with a roar down the falls.

"Bodies mangled by her beasts? Or people simply disappearing without a trace?"

"Yes."

"Which one, Loki? They are two different things."

"If you would use your own eyes and ears you would know these things."

Thor growled in frustration. "Why must you always be so evasive?"

"Why must you always be such an idiot?" Loki shot back.

"You are impossible!"

"And you impossibly dull. Now shut up, I'm trying to concentrate."

Thor stood still, but the white burn of anger had settled deep in his belly. For the sake of peace he had kept his words to a minimum, only asking what he felt was necessary, and it irked him that Loki refused to share information and then mocked him for not comprehending the situation.

Loki seemed to be reading some kind of trail, scanning the wide area in front of him with the keen eye of a tracker, but Thor was sure it was not a physical trail he followed. The earth was undisturbed, the plants untouched. Loki tipped his dark head slightly, this way and then that, seeming to listen and to feel in that way he had.

At last he straightened and his gaze locked on a direction. "This way." He whispered.

Thor wasn't entirely sure why the need for quiet was suddenly so great, but he followed as Loki crept silently forward, keeping his own heavy boots amazingly soft and soundless as he moved.

The roaring of the wild river slowly faded behind them, and as it did so Thor became aware of the complete lack of sound all around them. There was no breeze, no rustle of leaves, no movement of an animal, no flight or song of a bird. Just absolute silence.

His limbs pricked and his hand tightened over Mjolnir.

Loki led him deeper and deeper into the forest, the growth thickening around them till Thor wasn't sure they would be able to keep their passage hidden and quiet for much longer.

It was then that Loki stopped and raised a hand, slowly lowering into a crouch. Thor stopped behind him, staring ahead into the black maw of a cave that suddenly yawned before them, almost completely hidden by dead and growing foliage.

"There." Loki whispered, his voice so light on his breath that Thor had to strain to hear him.

His eyes flicked to his brother in unease. The way to Hela's domain was never easy, and never without danger, and so far they had had a fairly uneventful journey, but there was something about the blackness of that rock mouth that sent a thrill of warning through his every vein.

He was not alone. Loki's visage was now sharp and tense, his green eyes fairly glowing with their intensity, the lines of his mouth grim. His body was as taut as a drawn bow, his movements exact when he finally moved, sliding his feet forward slowly.

The beautiful humming of a woman echoed up from the black depths.

Both brothers froze, and Thor's knuckles went white around Mjolnir. He could not explain the coldness that pierced his core at that sound, but he also did not question it.

"We should not go in there." He whispered hoarsely.

Loki's features had not changed, but his skin was white and his green eyes had widened fractionally. "We have no choice."

"Are you sure?" Thor whispered, trying to reign in the fear that the haunting singing filled him with. "Can we not go around?"

Loki gave the slightest shake of his head. "The next jump is in there."

The curses were low on his breath, but still they carried their full depth and heat. The corner of Loki's mouth twitched.

"Such language for a crown prince."

"I've heard you use worse." Thor muttered.

Another twitch to the mouth. Then Loki hunched, as though ready to spring. "Pay no attention to whatever we might see in there." He warned. "It's from our minds. It's not real. We must reach the jump as quickly as possible and go through. Ignore everything else."

"And if we should get separated?"

Loki shot him a glare. Deliberately ignoring the outstretched hand, he roughly undid his belt and wrapped one end around his hand, then tossed the other end at Thor. Without any hesitation Thor grabbed it and wrapped it tightly around his hand, closing his fingers over it like a vise. The singing was still echoing out of the blackness, and he chilled when he recognized it as the tune of a lullaby their mother used to sing to them.

The voice had changed, too. Deepening, growing rich. Thor almost believed it was truly their mother's voice.

Almost.

Loki bared his teeth.

Then, together, they pushed off and sprinted into the darkness, the cave mouth swallowing them whole.


	6. Chapter 6

The blackness was worse than the dead of night, worse than any dark Loki had ever been in— with the exception of the Void. Images assaulted them on all sides, rushing around them with incredible speed. Memories, he realized. Whatever magic, whatever  _thing_  was here, it was pulling and reading their memories. He tensed, his grip on his belt growing tight and white-knuckled. He did not wish to see his memories played out for the sport of this Darkness. Deliberately ducking his head he surged forward, pulling his brother along behind him, running, his feet pushing against the rough stone ground and propelling them deeper and deeper into the inky blackness and technicolor images.

Things like this, they always preyed upon the weaker memories. The most painful. The ones most guaranteed to act like a trap of quicksand.

Loki refused to be so weak.

And then he realized that the images were slowing. And that the memories were not his.

His attention was immediately piqued.

Everything was still playing out at lightning fast speed, but his own eyes were quick enough to piece together what he was seeing. The jarring thing was that it felt like he was  _in_  the memories, as though they were happening directly to him, and he quickly had to shield himself so he would not get lost in experiences that weren't his. Jane's smiling face, the car crash that made Loki startle with its unexpectedness and horrible nature. The helplessness and the grief that followed.

_So that is how it happened._

And then he saw Odin. The memory was short and gone in a flash, not enough to see how the All-Father's death had occurred, but it was enough for Loki to see the haunting image of a frail and dying old man— not the hale and seemingly ageless visage of his father that he was so used to. Gaunt and pale features with a faded, despairing eye would haunt him for a long time now; of that he was sure.

" _Loki, am I not your mother?_ "

He gritted his teeth against the guilt those words produced, spoken in Frigga's soft and dulcet tones, so knowing and so full of hope.

" _Tell me, Loki. Why did you let Kurse through? Why did you show him how to destroy Asgard's defenses? How much would be different if you had not…_ "

Her chiding tone twisted his stomach, and Loki ran. He pulled at his belt, drawn so taut and resisting his hold, but he pulled harder and dragged his brother onward, all the while trying to shut out his mother's voice.

If he ever had one regret…

What he wouldn't give to change that!

Jane's screaming filled the background, words laced with begging and blaming and guilt and pleading filling the air as a nightmarish backdrop. And then Odin was there; cheeks hollow, blue eye burning with grief and blame, his teeth bared with hate and judgement. He stalked around them, matching them step for step, and the anger that emanated from him was breathtaking.

But he seemed to be looking through Loki, not at him, as though his eye could not find focus.

" _Where is your brother? The one you had sworn to love? Vain, selfish, cruel boy! Did you never stop to consider the safety of those around you? Of your brother? Selfish, obsessed, greedy! WHERE IS YOUR BROTHER?_ "

His steps faltered, and his breath caught. At last. The true feelings he had always know Odin had for him, smoldering anger in every word and growing to an incensed shouting that was filled with acidic fury.

" _It is well you refused the throne. You cannot even protect the ones you claim to love, how can you possibly protect the kingdom?_ "

What?

Loki's steps slowed, and he stared.

Odin was practically spitting with his rage, his blue eye burning as he roared.

" _He is dead because of your selfishness! And then you did not even have the decency to bury him, to honor him in any way. You left him for carrion. You did not bring back his body! And now where is he? WHERE IS MY SON!_ "

There was heavy panting behind him, and Loki tightened his grip on the belt.

" _You never think before you act! Selfish, idiot boy! Where now is my wife? Where now is my son? The son whom I CHOSE? The son I loved, to whom I chose to give my name? Would that HE had been first born, and not the rash dullard!_ "

He could not believe it. Was this truly what had happened? Had Odin spoken so to Thor? Loki could not, would not believe it. It had to be a phantom of this Darkness, and not Thor's memory. And yet it was so real, the tears on the old face glistening even as Odin gasped and stumbled, clutching his heart.

" _Where is my son, Thor?_ " His voice cracked and rose in despair. " _Where is Loki?_ "

Something broke inside, and Loki stared unblinking at his father's form, falling to his knees as he grabbed at his heart.

A baby's wail pierced the air. It screamed and cried, a helpless and horrible sound. Jane pled. Odin raged and grieved.

A hand pushed at his shoulder, hard and strong, shoving him forward on heavy and unwilling feet, hot breath on his ear and a crushing grip on his arm. And then he was being pulled, and he stumbled, his ears ringing with his father's dimming shouts and the infant's loud, broken crying.

A deep voice choked ahead of him, but they did not stop. Loki was now the one being pulled, urged along faster, faster, till they were running— fleeing. The Darkness and the voices were crushing around him, and Loki's head swam, trying to comprehend.

"Loki! Guide me!"

The harsh voice was almost unrecognizable, and Loki wondered what other demon had decided to join them.

"Loki, which way?!"

They were running blind. Loki gasped and pulled himself back within his body, and he cast out, feeling… "Straight! It's straight ahead!"

" _Thor! Help me! I can't save her!_ "

Loki stopped allowing himself to be pulled, and instead urged his leaden feet to  _move_.

The baby's crying became choking. Loki had never realized before just how horrifying and tearing a sound an infant's cry could be. Especially when you did, or could, not help it.

Sobbing surrounded them; a woman's helpless, heartrending sobbing.

" _Thor, please! Help her! Save our baby! I can't… Thor, please save our baby!_ "

The infant's wailing reached a piercing shriek. There was a stumble ahead of Loki, and then— if it was possible— the belt which he clutched grew taut as Thor ran all the faster.

"Straight!" Loki yelled, feeling something cold and vaporous closing over the back of his shoulders like clawing fingers.

" _Loki, am I not your mother?_ "

Ahead of him there was a great roar, and he was jerked forward with a great heave of his brother's strength, and the rock wall rushed into his face.


	7. Chapter 7

The slope was steep, the still sand now moving and skidding with the force of their fall, and they rolled and rolled, the world up and then down and every dizzying spin jarring and bruising their bodies.

At last everything stopped. They lay, motionless, as the sand continued to stream past and over them in an unending hiss. At last even that stopped.

It was silent.

Loki slowly opened his eyes, and found himself blinded by a fiery white sun in a sky of the palest, brightest blue. He relaxed in relief, content to lay there in the rough, hot sand, allowing the sun to bake his battered and sore body.

That had been… unpleasant.

And enlightening.

He sat up, looking around at their surroundings, noting the golden sands stretching in every direction. He pulled his long legs beneath him and then rose to his full height, brushing sand from his clothes.

His belt lay a few feet from him, half-buried. He picked it up.

"Well." he said, buckling the belt around his waist. "That was interesting."

There was no answer. It was becoming a rather infuriating occurrence lately, and Loki glanced at the great form of his brother, still in the sand, with no small amount of irritation. When Thor seemed not to hear him, still face down and covered with quickly drifting sand, the smallest of frowns touched the dark brows. Just when Loki was about to check and see of he still lived Thor shifted, moving slowly and stiffly, pushing himself to his knees.

He kept his back to Loki. His face averted.

"Come on." Loki pushed. "You can't tell me that didn't get the blood pumping through your veins."

Thor sat back on his heels and looked up at the sky, sand streaming from his cloak in a whispering hiss.

Loki waited, determined not to give in this time and see what ailed his brother. Instead he sniffed the dry air and looked around, sharp eyes scanning for the telltale glimmer that would point him the right direction. There… a strong glimmer, like an airborne trail. It was not far then. Good. The sooner they got to Helheim, the better. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could stand.

Rash dullard.

Loki did not move, but he dropped his gaze. In this golden quiet place the echoes were all the more grating, all the more tearing and harsh. They were not, Loki was sure, the words his father had actually said… Odin did not care for him so… but rather a phantom of Thor's own guilt.

For some reason, that bothered Loki more.

Turning, his hands clasped behind him, Loki regarded the kneeling form, as broad and as still as a mountain in the swirling, blowing sand. The Darkness had not taken from  _him_. It had taken from  _Thor_.

The Lion of Asgard. The bright and shining sun, untouched, untarnished.

If only those who hailed him as such could have seen and heard that.

_Oh, what lies we weave, brother._

Thor ran a hand back through his hair, and then stood, standing tall on long, steady legs, broad shoulders rising and straightening with a roll. When he turned his face seemed to be cast from stone, except for his eyes.

"Thor…"

That blue gaze turned to him. Loki could swear that the full force of the sun burned in those eyes.

He stood, bathed in that fire and light, and found himself unscathed.

"It is this way."

* * *

They had not traveled far. The winds that had been blowing sand around them since their arrival had risen up, and a great and terrible golden cloud came billowing and roaring upon them. There was no shelter to escape to, nowhere to run, and so they had dropped down together and thrown Thor's cloak over themselves just as the scouring gale crashed upon them. The winds blew on them so hard, pushing against them with such strength, that at any moment they might be blown away. Hot sand hit into them and scoured them through their clothes till their skin burned.

They huddled close, dark and golden hair knotting together, their heads touching and their limbs tangled as they tried to hold the cloak as close around themselves as they could manage.

They had done this before. Night after night, when they were small boys. Hiding beneath their blankets and talking by the small light Loki conjured. Blanket clutched close. Heads touching.

Oh, how familiar it was. Achingly, wonderfully, bitterly familiar.

If Loki took the opportunity to draw a little bit closer than was necessary, and felt Thor do the same, neither one admitted it.

When at last he was sure they were not going to be blown into oblivion, Loki dared to open his eyes, looking down upon their crossed and overlapping legs.

"Strange, that you remember the All-Father so." He murmured, remembering the wasted form from the cave. "One would think he had never dropped into the Odinsleep."

A warm breath. The brilliant blue of eyes that, too, remained cast down. "The sleep did him little service, this time." Thor said, the warm tones of his voice wrapping around them in their small enclosed space.

The winds and whistling sand seemed to quiet as Loki's attention focused. Curious, and a little defensive, he said, "When I left him he was perfectly hale and whole, safe in my cell and secure."

"Sleep does little when the heart is damaged."

Loki snorted. He shifted, turning a shoulder against the buffeting elements. "He seemed to be handling Mother's death well enough." He retorted bitterly.

"Not as well as you think." Thor said quietly. "He was already fading, though he hid it."

Loki's eyes flicked up.

_"There's no sign of Thor or the Aether. However…" the guard hesitated. "We found a body…"_

_Odin turned. His one eye stared, and though the guard said nothing more, he knew._

_"Loki…"_

_The guard looked apologetic. Odin gave a great roar, and swung Gugnir, throwing it far from him. It clattered on the floor, deafening in the silent space of the great hall. And then the king had grunted and lurched forward, clutching his chest. His features twisted with emotion in a way the guard had never seen before on that face, and the one blue eye shimmered and then spilled over. Odin sank to his knees, fingers fisting in his robe, shaking._

_"No…"_

_That one word was the finality of heartbreak. And then Odin was still, slumped upon the steps._

_The guard stared._

_His green eyes unblinking._

"What more?" He growled, banishing the memory. And ignored how those words made something ache inside, and how he strained to hear the answer. Waiting for it.

Another warm breath across his face. The shifting of the broad form, holding the cloak— heavy with sand— over and around them. Thor seemed worn.

Thor was never worn.

"They had taken him to the Healers." His brother began, low voice rumbling softly. "When I got there— there wasn't much time." He swallowed, head turning against Loki's.

Loki cursed the limited space, Thor's hair brushing his nose. But he also was listening to nothing but his brother's words. Hanging on them, though he would never admit it.

"He took my hand. He wept." Thor took a deep breath.

_Father never wept._

"'Where is Loki?' he asked me. 'Where… where is my son? Where is Loki?'"

The copying of Odin's breathless, heartbroken tone made the ache coil up in his chest and tighten. Loki clenched his jaw.

"They were his last words." Thor whispered. And then, with tight feeling, he said: "Know this. You were his chosen one. His son. His words may have been lacking and few, but never doubt that he loved you."

His throat tightened. Loki closed his eyes, and felt an irrational anger rise up, sharp and bitter and tinged with something he refused to call grief. "Lacking and few. Now there's an understatement." He rasped. "Unkind and acerbic, more like."

Thor smiled softly. "Mother was always the one to speak kindly."

"Pray, don't pretend to sympathize, Thor. I wouldn't want you to overtax yourself."

Loki waited for an answer, but the minutes dragged by. Looking up as best he could under the heavy cloak he glared; normally there would at least be the pathetic attempt of a denial. "Well don't protest too loudly." He snapped.

Thor's blink was tired, and then he closed his eyes and allowed his head to sag beneath the sand-weighted cloth, his forehead scraping and pressing against Loki's.

The cloak fluttered, buffeted by the relentless wind. Loki was left to his own thoughts, which invariably mulled over what he had just learned, and as he did so he found himself growing more and more… angry? No, not just. Exasperated? If Odin had truly loved him, why couldn't he just SAY so? Was it so hard to share? Even just a little?

_The way YOU share? Pot, meet kettle…_

He bared his teeth.  _Shut up!_  He thought bitterly to himself.

It was too late now, anyway. Odin was gone. Too late for apologies. Too late to express… anything. For either of them.

He was always too late.

_Am I not your mother?_

_You are not._

"None of that was real." Loki murmured. "In the cave."

Thor sucked in a breath, and his eyes closed all the tighter.

"One, you know that the child crying was just illusion. Your child was not so old."

"Is that supposed to be a comfort?" Thor breathed, his voice unsteady.

"It is." Loki said matter-of-factly. "You never abandoned it, or caused it distress. The wailing was an illusion, to stumble you." He paused. "And so was Father."

Thor stilled, but Loki could feel the tension singing through his veins, coming out only as the opening and closing of one large fist.

"It wasn't true." He continued, watching his brother's face. Up close and personal. "Any of it. You act rashly at times, and have a tedious habit of hitting things as a means to end disputes, but none of what happened was your fault."

"No?" Thor whispered. "There are times I wish… more than anything… to go back in time and stop myself from going to Jotunheim. Perhaps then none of this would've happened."

"No." Loki was sure of this, his expression cementing, his green eyes as hard as glass. "The truth was bound to come out sooner or later, and the Aether and the Convergence happened on its own. You may have sped up the process, but nothing more."

"You…"

Loki sighed. "Yes, by all means, take the blame for my 'death'. I'm sure you were getting beaten to a bloody mess on purpose."

There was, once more, no answer (though Thor did give him a quick glare), but as they rested and waited in the silence a heavy air had settled over them.

It was quite depressing.

_"You were an innocent child."_

_"You are my son. My blood. I wanted only to protect you from the truth."_

_"If I hadn't taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me."_

_"I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, bring about permanent peace… through you…"_

"He called Jane a goat."

Loki blinked. He frowned. "What?" he asked, baffled.

"To my face." Thor supplied.

"A goat?" Loki repeated, trying to picture his father saying such a thing to Thor. "Surely he could have come up with a better… are you sure he wasn't speaking of Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjostr?"

Thor rolled his eyes, giving Loki a 'look'. "He said she didn't belong in Asgard any more than a goat belonged at a banquet table." His face pulled. "It was quite offensive."

"Yes, but… a goat?" Loki was incredulous.

The ridiculousness…

"A  _goat_?"

Green eyes met blue. Thor's mouth lifted, spreading into a wide smile, his eyes crinkling with mirth. He began to shake. Loki felt his own mouth pull into a grin, beautifully, deliciously, and then he began to shake. There was no sound, making the whole thing so very odd, both of them sitting there just shaking. Who actually laughed out loud first he wasn't sure, but the moment the sound broke the silence it was over. They laughed and laughed and laughed, till Loki couldn't see, hunching in an attempt to ease the new ache that cramped his belly.

Of all the insults their father could have come up with… he had chosen to reference an unfortunate incident with Thor's pets…

And if tears finally poured down their faces as they sat huddled together, foreheads pressed, Thor's large hand warmly holding his neck and Loki holding the cloak for them both, Loki would just say it was from the laughter.


	8. Chapter 8

The storm did not let up. There was little to mark the passage of time, in their small world of Thor's cloak and hot wind and sand. They only realized evening was upon them when their features became suddenly obscure and dark with shadows, and details and lines blurred. With some difficulty of shifting and adjusting Loki was able to free a hand and conjure some bread and a flask of water. He ate first, and then he held the cloak so that Thor had a hand free.

It was a poor meal, and a sparse one, but it would do for now.

Tonight, once again, Thor took first shift. Loki adjusted so that he was laying on his side, as curled up as he could be. Directly beside him Thor held the cloak, as best he could, over them both.

Loki was stiff, muscles cramping and joints aching from being forced to sit, curled up, for hours. His legs and part of his side— exposed to the elements— were now numb from being scoured. Sand collected in the crevices and folds of his clothes, driven in so that it was even inside his garments, grating on his skin.

And  _he_  was covered from neck to foot in thick cloth and leather. He could only imagine how it was for Thor. His fool brother's arms were exposed, making it easy for the sand that made it under the cloak to blow in under his chest plate and shirt and rub the skin of his arms raw.

Oh well. Thor's choice of attire had been entirely his own decision, and he could live with the consequences of it. Loki closed his eyes, and tried his best to sleep.

He dreamed. It was not unexpected, after the cave. He dreamed of falling, and of Odin letting go of Thor to reach for him… and missing. Of watching in horror as his brother fell into the wrenching blackness even as he felt his own breath leave him, his fingers brushing his father's hand and then he was falling… arms and legs kicking and reaching for purchase and finding none, of his father's voice in his ear, his brother's dying cry. Loki shouted, staring into a tired blue eye…

_"I could have done it, Father! For you! For all of us!"_

_No, Loki._

_"It is my birthright!"_

_All this… because Loki desires a throne._

_A wise king never seeks out war…_

_Through your arrogance and stupidity, you've opened these peaceful realms and innocent lives to the horror and desolation of war!_

_Do you not truly feel the gravity of your crimes?_

_You're unworthy of these realms, you're unworthy of your title, you're unworthy of the loved ones you have betrayed!_

And then his eyes opened.

For a moment he lay there on the hard sand, the whistling of the storm filling him with its dry sound, and he let his mind wander. Interesting, his dream's choice of memories… mixing them up, getting them wrong. Things he remembered his father saying that hadn't been said to him. Though they easily could have been.

Vain. Greedy. Cruel. Traitor. Unworthy.

_No, Loki._

_You're my son…_

What cruel fate that had taken his father from him during that fateful night, that had interrupted his quest for answers to the terrible truth he had just learned?

Why?

_Why?_

What more would his father have said if the Odinsleep had not taken him?

Loki clenched his teeth, mouth pulled tight, and he closed his eyes. He tried to find sleep again, but he was fully awake and a familiar bitterness and rage swirled inside him, woken and turbulent even as it was slowly being drowned by an old despair. The precursor to his shouted  _"TELL ME!"_

The deep warmth against his back shifted. Solid. Present.

His brother's low voice was soft. "Can you not sleep?"

Loki did not answer, determinedly keeping his eyes shut and his breathing even. But then the solid warmth at his back shifted again. It pressed closer by the merest fraction.

When had Thor become so perceptive? He, who was blind to so much except the obvious. Loki did not like this new exposure; he had been unable to fool Thor with his illusion in his cell, and it seemed he could no longer fake sleep, either. He could imagine what he'd see if he turned; Thor's silhouette, sitting tall and steady as a mountain, his profile strong. Unmarked. Unbroken. As steady and as unmoved as the ocean tide, no matter what storm ravaged it.

So like Odin.

Old envy coiled in his gut.

Eyes green as glass snapped open, and his mouth thinned. Forget it, he would never be able to sleep now. He sat up, hands upraised to push the cloak from his face, and with some little movement he shifted his seat on the sand and was face to face with his brother.

"My watch." He said shortly.

Thor glanced at him questioningly, unbelieving, knowing. Curse his brother's keen inner clock! Loki glared back, daring Thor to call him on it. For a moment there was nothing but that blue gaze. Somehow it made Loki want to squirm, feeling  _seen_ , and he narrowed his eyes.

Thor nodded, and laid down.

Loki sat there, in the whistling dark, holding the cloak against the battering elements, and he brooded.

_"We're born, we live, we die, just as humans do."_

Had Father felt his mortality creeping up on him, even then? Loki felt the cloak pull against his hands, alternately blowing into him and trying to blow away from him as the wind played with it, and he ducked his head, fisting the thick cloth with a curse.

_"Where now is my son? The son whom I CHOSE?"_

_"… please save our baby!"_

_High, helpless wailing…_

_Cold vapor clutching his shoulder with its talons…_

The memories echoed out in the silence, free to ring out from his memory in the sounds of the whistling desert winds. Loki had to open his eyes, adjusting his hold on the cloak so that he might feel the rough cloth, look around so that he might see the safety of their currently very narrow world. Not real. The cave was over, and none of it had been more than illusion… A horrific, nightmarish illusion, but nothing more. Loki lifted his eyes to the warm red that covered his head, the scarlet threads woven tightly together. He fisted it in his hands and pulled it low down over the two of them, hunching his shoulders. Sand blew, warm and rough, over his booted feet that remained exposed. Thor lay beside him, facing away from Loki and yet pressed close in an attempt to remain under the meagre shelter. His arm was tucked under his head, his ridiculously large body curled up as best it could be under such limited cover.

The memories stirred in the back of Loki's mind, and he wondered how Thor was able to sleep so well and so soundly when  _he_  could not. When the darkness of the cave lingered in these dark hours.

It had always been so. No matter the danger, no matter the foe, always there was a smile on his brother's face and laughter on his breath. Light remarks and the gleam of battle shining in his eyes. Loki could count on one hand the times he'd seen Thor afraid, and most of those instances had been incredibly recent.

Thor shifted— a rolling shudder through the long frame, a small jerk of a booted foot, disturbing the drifted sand.

Loki cursed the long storm, his back protesting his position. Too many hours already spent sitting. Too many lying in a cramped ball. And now he was sitting again, with no end in sight to the harsh winds and scouring sands. Not exactly the swift swoop upon Helheim that he'd envisioned.

Another shudder, a small breath. A small movement of the golden head. A flinch.

Loki's attention was caught, and he watched.

A small sound, released upon another breath. A frightened sound. A sound of pain.

His dark brows pulled together, and his green eyes glowed like a cat's.

Dreams were not uncommon, not among the warriors. One did not see what they saw and come out of it without haunts. Loki had suffered his share with the rest of them, but they always faded with a little time, and yet in all his years he could not remember Thor ever being unduly disturbed. There were times after battle that he would wake silently in the middle of the night, and not return to sleep— but then, other than being slightly pensive for a little while, he was fine.

There was never anything more than that. Loki had never been sure if it was just how his brother dreamed, or if he was truly so strong that dreams held no power over him.

As they had grown older, he had come to believe the latter.

"Mm." Thor bumped Loki's knee with his back. A hand moved questingly out, and then drew back with a sigh.

A sense of morbid curiosity was one of his stronger traits. Loki leaned forward slightly, looking, waiting. Watching the sporadic tremors that would take Thor's limbs. Watching the rapid movement of his eyes beneath closed lids, and the flinching and frowning of the lax face. He would jerk, his head turning away, and sometimes a hand would reach out, unseeing. The minutes rolled by and still Loki watched intently. Expressions he had rarely ever seen on his brother's face were now played out freely, and from time to time sounds he had never thought to hear from Thor— and would never, in waking— brushed his ears and brought a disquieted shadow to his face.

Unmarked? Definitely not.

Unbroken? Loki wasn't sure.

_Did you REALLY think he wouldn't be marked by any of this? Your 'sentimental' brother untouched by the loss, one by one, of his entire family?_

_Now who's the fool?_

"No…" The rest was incoherent, too mumbled to make any sense, but Thor's hand became more desperate in its search, fingers splayed and arm straining as he reached. He mumbled some more and Loki just caught ' _can't_ ', ' _Jane_ ', and ' _find her_ '. Thor flinched, as though something had slapped him.

Loki stared, and deliberated seriously. If he attempted to wake him and Thor struggled the way he had the previous night that would cause trouble, considering their current situation. Loki had no desire to get tangled up in Thor's cloak and exposed to the full force of the sandstorm outside.

Thor muttered again, shifting anxiously. His breath hitched.

Loki settled, and waited. If nothing more came of the dreams than this, he would leave Thor be.

But it was going to be a long night.

It was hard to judge time. There was nothing to mark it, so Loki couldn't be entirely sure how much passed. It was unpleasant, to say the least. His limbs grew stiff and ached, his fingers went numb from holding the cloak, and Thor's dreams had taken a turn for the worse.

Loki conjured a dim light.

Thor turned his head into his arm, and in the faint glow of light something glimmered on his cheek, slipping down his skin as he bared his teeth and made a horrible, guttural sound.

No, Loki decided— not dreams. Nightmares. Only full nightmares would affect his brother so.

"No!"

Loki grunted as his brother pulled away from something, his back pushing into Loki's folded legs with incredible force. If Thor pushed him any harder, Loki thought with some irritation, he would topple right over.

"No… Jane… I'm sorry… can't…"

Loki frowned and growled as Thor's struggles did push him over, and he just managed to catch himself on his hand. The corner of Thor's cloak billowed and flew up, and sand eagerly rushed in, wind blowing harsh, his face getting scratched and pelted. Squeezing his eyes shut and trying to avoid Thor's struggles Loki managed to catch the edge of the cloak again and pull it down, panting in the returned stillness. There was a whistling and howling as the winds picked up outside, seeming furious at the thwarted attempt.

"…can't find her!"

Interesting choice of words.

" _No_ …"

The break in that words, the utter crumbling that Loki heard, was enough. Thor was reaching, searching, pushing, and Loki grunted as an elbow inadvertently connected. His conjured light went out.

" _I'm sorry_ …"

"Thor!" Loki called, and grunted again; that was going to leave a bruise. They couldn't stay like this. With a growl and a careful twist of the cloak he dropped down and lay on Thor with his full body weight, catching the wayward arms under his elbow and clamping down, trapping them against his brother's chest. "Thor!" He ground out in his brother's ear. "Thor, wake up!"

There was a jolt and a breath.

Loki remained as he was— a human vise— waiting for the tension to leave the body beneath him. Thor was overheated, the faintest of tremors running through him, fine sand sticking to his damp skin. His breaths were heavy and tight. He was absolutely still.

Loki lifted and craned his head, looking down, trying to see the face that was turned into the sand. The blue eyes were half open, and blinking hard, but in that moment Loki could hear the fading voices…

_Help her! Thor, where is she? Where's our baby? Save her!_

_I can't find her… Jane, I'm sorry…!_

_Utter blackness. Slick blood on his hands, not his. Jane dying, somewhere. Screaming at him. His baby lost… reaching out, searching, running, looking, his ears ringing with his daughter's wails, cold mist and claws grabbing at him from behind, almost catching him. Fighting… nothing. Screams. His heart hammering, desperately searching, frantic, trying to follow the screams deeper into the cave, failing and breaking knowing he was failing… he couldn't find her…_

"It's not real." Loki hissed.

Thor's teeth were clenched, and his eyes closed, his breath silent even as Loki saw the telltale shimmers of moisture.

"It's over." Loki whispered, pushing Thor into the sand, holding the cloak tight over them both, trying to get his brother to feel that they weren't  _there_  despite the darkness that surrounded them. Thor remained incredibly still, arms held in, head turned into the sand, muscles rigid.

Loki could feel the shudders, faint and yet deep. He could hear, muffled, the sounds of grief.

He could feel when Thor swallowed and drew in a breath. He ignored the thickness of it. "I couldn't find them." Thor whispered. "I looked, but I couldn't find them, and I couldn't save them…" He pulled in an unsteady breath, his eyes shut and his cheeks glimmering. "I can never save them…"

Loki heard the words and recognized the double meaning, and something in his chest clenched. His jaw grew tight. " _I'm_  not dead, you idiot." He rasped.

"You  _died_  in my  _arms_." Thor ground out. "Your being here now doesn't change that it  _happened_. Twice. That I couldn't save you. That even though you may live I've still lost…" He trailed off as his voice betrayed him and broke, and for a moment there was silence.

…  _everyone else._  Loki finished silently. And he wished he hadn't spoken. He closed his eyes, still feeling snatches of the interrupted nightmare. Throwing Mjolnir to save their mother, arm moving as though through sludge, unable to  _move faster_  and watching as she fell. Odin twisted and raging, and then becoming the father they both remembered and fading… fading and falling beyond Thor's reach. Frightening impact and rolling and flipping, with Jane's screams deafening in his ears, and the helplessness and fury as he tried to find his daughter, to rescue her from the phantom that stalked the darkness and hunted them.

Loki clenched his teeth, and quickly put up a shield. There were times he forgot just how much his brother  _didn't_  wear on his sleeve. Looking at his rigid face now, a muscle working in the strong jaw, Loki could see the raw grief easily… but would never have guessed the full range of guilt and despair and helplessness and rage that stormed within him.

His features softened. His green eyes grew sad.

"You are a fool." He whispered.

Thor huffed. "I know." He said hoarsely.

Loki paused, and then said simply: "You still haven't said her name."

A sharp breath. "Don't."

"You cannot pretend she did not exist."

"Please, Loki… don't."

"You must." Loki insisted roughly, struggling with an emotion he didn't want to give name to but knew nonetheless. "You are not made for a glorious fallout." He added, voice quiet.  _Not like me._

There was silence. Loki waited, not knowing what else to say. The usual pushes, nagging, jests and mockeries rose to his tongue, to the very tip, and died there. He'd always been flippant. It was his favorite pastime, spinning words into a shimmering web… not realizing how deeply he was planting the seeds of doubt, so that when the time came no one… much less himself… could hardly tell his truth from his lie.

So now he held his tongue, and said nothing.

He owed Thor that much.

"We were thinking of the name Rose." Thor whispered. "It was the name of…of her…"

Loki waited a moment, then offered: "'Her' grandmother?"

There was the barest movement, a faint nod of affirmation. "She was due in May."

Loki stared into the dark. "I have never had a child." He whispered, and cursed the slip of apology and bitterness that entered his tone. Bitterness for a future that would never be. Apology that he had nothing to offer, that he didn't know what it was like to have an extension of yourself torn away suddenly and unexpectedly. He did not like to think about the fact that he had willingly done so to his own mother.

_"Am I not your mother?"_

_Yes._

_You are._

He shifted, removing some of his weight, tensed muscles relaxing as he no longer had to hold his brother down.

The winds howled around them, swirling and buffeting them from all sides. It was a mournful sound. A raging sound.

Loki held the edges of the cloak down, one arm across Thor to keep him covered as well. He looked up, his head on the sand beside Thor's, as though he would see anything but the dark red cloth barely an inch from his eyes. "Will the storm ever end?" He wondered aloud, his tone almost lazy.

An unsteady inhale, a steadier voice: "It seems to have gone on forever."

The corners of his mouth curved. "Hm." Then he blinked out of his thoughts, and he turned, adjusting his position on the sand. "Well, I might as well get comfortable. I don't think we'll be going anywhere anytime soon."

He moved and shifted, trying to  _get_  comfortable on his side while still holding the cloak over them both, and noted with some irritation just how close they had to lay in order to stay covered. He tried to tuck one arm close, between the two of them.

"Ow!" A blue eye glared at him from over his brother's shoulder. "Your elbows have not grown any less sharp."

"Apologies, brother." Loki quipped. "I thought to preserve a modicum of personal space. But if you prefer…" He deliberately and languidly draped the offending arm across Thor, allowing his hand to hang over Thor's shoulder and into his face.

"Stop." Thor groaned, batting the hand away.

"Isn't that more comfortable?" Loki drawled.

There was a sigh. "Perhaps a bit." He admitted reluctantly, before settling back down. There was a pause. "But you're not Jane."

At last. Loki's grin was sharp, and he chuckled with Thor. And then the mirth dispersed, wholly and completely, as he knew it would, and with furrowed brows and tight lips he tightened his embrace, rather than letting go.

"I know." He whispered.

The winds spiraled. The blown sands groaned.

"Jane is…"

"I know."

"Jane… Norns, Loki!"

"I know."

The storm raged.


	9. Chapter 9

Sleep was done for the night, so they listened to the wind, lost in their respective thoughts.

"Do you remember our first trip alone?" Thor asked.

A hunting trip. How could he forget. They had gone with hardly anything… no tent, no guards. Just some bread, some water, a bedroll each, and their weapons.

"We stayed out there in the forest for two nights. Just you and me, under the stars."

Hiding in some trees, attempting to stay hidden from the angry bilgesnipe whose territory they had inadvertently stumbled upon. They had been so young, Loki thinks. They hadn't known how young they were, but that was because they were at the dawn of their lives and thought they ruled the worlds.

Thor had been thrilled. He had laughed that night, when the dark had closed in around them and Loki had jumped at the sudden crashes and snorts of the bilgesnipe as it passed by their tree, ending its rounds for the day and choosing to bed down a scant fifty yards away.

Loki had hardly slept that night, every sense tuned into that creature. Knowing that if it realized they were there, it could easily break down their tree.

Thor had slept.

"I have rarely had more fun than I did on that trip. With you." There was a soft, remembering smile in Thor's voice. Then a pause. "I was afraid."

Loki started, his eyes opening.

"We'd always had the protection of Father's guard, and this time it was just us. If the bull noticed us I didn't know what we would do. But you… you were so composed, even curious, as you watched him. I was ashamed, and I tried to hide my fear… to prove that I was as brave as you." He paused, then added: "But with you there, watching… I felt safe."

Loki stared into the dark, the swirling sand just visible under the edge of Thor's cloak. The murmured words brought an ache to his chest, unexpected and hard. Loki felt suddenly tensed and on edge; the dark was too dark, the silence too empty. "I don't remember it that way." He whispered.

"I know." Thor said quietly. "And I'm sorry."

Loki adjusted his position on the sand, and closed his eyes. "Sentiment." He muttered.

But the bitterness was not there.

Once again they lapsed into silence.

As they waited, they sensed that the light was changing as it became easier to see. Loki let his thoughts wander, plotting away the time, when he realized that there was a shift in the air. It was subtle, but there, and he wondered at it.

It was with a start, as he lay there with the unending hiss of wind all around, that he realized that's all it was… a hiss. The howl was gone, the whistling faded. Warmth was seeping through his boots and touching his toes.

Thor's head turned, and Loki could see his profile, expression suddenly keen. "Do you…?"

"Yes." Loki answered, and pushed himself up onto his elbow. "Yes, I do."

With a hand he pushed the cloak away, ignoring his brother's grunt as sand poured from the outer folds and onto them. Loki shook his head, and blinked in the blinding light. It was over. Stiffly he pulled his legs beneath him and stood up, straightening, rolling his shoulders and his neck as he looked around them. The sand was flat where there had been dunes, and dunes where it had been flat, and the sun was burning in a cloudless sky.

"Finally." He muttered, brushing at his clothes. "Let's hope there are no more delays." Sparing a glance back to see Thor rising and shaking sand from his hair, Loki then squinted and tried once more to locate the shimmering, air-borne trail. He found it quickly enough, and began to walk. He heard Thor's footsteps behind him.

"Tell me about Hela."

The question was simple, but there was an underlying hardness that immediately caught Loki's attention. It was almost the same as the tone Thor had used in the dungeon, when he had recruited Loki's help during the Convergence.

There was a faint prickling in the air. Loki looked cautiously at Thor as his brother matched his stride.

"You said you weren't sure of her reasons for taking people." Thor rumbled quietly. "Tell me what you  _are_  sure of."

Loki blinked. The prickling in the air was making his skin crawl and his nerves jump, as if something were about to happen. "That it is a trap."

Thor glanced at him. His blue eyes were burning. "A trap?"

"Absolutely." Loki said, watching the shimmering trail and trying to determine how much further till the jump. "Instead of galavanting about trying to subdue the realms she's lounging about in Helheim. She's saying 'come get me', clear as day."

"I thought you said you didn't know her reasons."

"I said I wasn't  _sure_  of her reasons. And I'm not. I know she's laying a trap, I just don't know what sort or why."

Thor did not respond. He seemed to be digesting that bit of news with more calmness than Loki had expected; normally he would be lecturing Loki right now about keeping such a thing from him.

"And our plan?"

Loki looked sideways at him; the set to his brother's jaw was… alarming. "I know how to free the people she's taken." Loki said, shifting from the charge in the air. "But Hela will notice me immediately… which is why I need a distraction."

"So I should barge in, demanding answers and giving battle at the slightest provocation then?"

"If you could."

"I shall endeavor to hit everything in sight."

A thread of unease teased the back of his mind, and Loki's eyes grew sharp. "Please try to exercise a little caution." He warned. "Remember where your eagerness for battle got us in Jotunheim. We aren't exactly on her friends list and you don't know what she has waiting…"

"Do not fear, brother." Thor reassured him with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "I do not intend to die today."

Loki's features darkened. "None do." He muttered.

A blue eye glanced askance at him, and then stared resolutely ahead. "Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"You are not altruistic, brother." Thor said, quiet resignation in his tone. "What is your interest in this?"

"Ooh, and the suspicion returns." Loki quipped, the corner of his mouth twisting.

Thor gave him a look.

"Whatever she is planning is most likely  _not_  to our benefit." Loki said wryly. "The more souls she has, the stronger her power. And," he said this grudgingly. "You would not assist me in stopping her final and  _true_  plan if I did not free those poor souls."

Thor's look might have been one of irritation, if it were not for the slight lift of the corner of his mouth. "And this  _true_  plan…?"

"We shall discover when we get there." Loki finished lightly. Then suddenly he felt it… a thickness in the air, little tingles… like sparks settling on his skin. He turned, and smelled the sharp, hot scent, and went to the crest of the dune and looked down.

There.

At last.

"We're here." He turned back to Thor. "You ready?" He said quietly, and his eyes glittered with anticipation.

Thor took Mjolnir from his belt, and his fingers tightened around the handle with deliberate care, knuckles whitening. His face hardened, and when he looked at Loki his eyes were almost white, all the power of a storm crackling in those blue depths.

It was a rage unlike Loki had ever seen, and he found himself suddenly afraid.

Thor's eyes flickered to his, and Loki's breath caught as if he'd been struck. He felt a tug of warning, but did not understand. Thor was more than a match for Hela, which was why he was sending Thor to do the distracting… and yet…

"You only need to keep her occupied till I arrive." He reminded his brother, trying to cover the note of concern that slipped into his voice. "Can I trust you to do that? And only that?"

Thor was completely still, and that unnerved Loki even more, standing there in the path of that burning gaze.

Loki grabbed Thor's arm, the warning suddenly blaring deep inside his core. "Can I trust you?" He hissed.

Thor lowered his chin, his stare unblinking. "Trust my rage." He whispered.

Loki clenched his teeth. He stared into those blue depths a few moments longer, searching, and then he saw… he saw the fury of loss, the burning need for battle, the need to strike… and he remembered, and understood. He nodded, and let go.

They stood atop the dune, and looked down at the steep slope of loose sand. Muscles grew tense, and eyes sharpened.

"Just don't kill her." Loki said.

They jumped.


	10. Chapter 10

This time there was no falling. There was no sliding. Thor felt his feet hit the rocks on the slope with the force and firmness of Mjolnir, and then he straightened.

Before him was a land awash in mist and fog, lit from the south by a cold blue light where he could see snow covered peaks crown the horizon. To the north it was lit with the red glow of fire. But here, in this place between the other two worlds, it was an eternal twilight.

Strange noises crept up from the land below; strange cries and howls, rising from the rocky crevices where black shadows played, and from the banks of the midnight river that tore its way through the earth like a living thing, rushing and crashing over rocks, its depths filled with the armor and weapons of its victims.

There was a touch at his elbow, and though it seemed no one was there Thor saw the bend in the air that revealed his brother's cloaked form.

"I shall return when her victims are free."

Sparks prickled through his veins, and a building pressure rolled through him. He blinked, his hand tightening around Mjolnir as the pounding of his heart sounded like a battle drum in his ears.

"Try not to do anything stupid."

There was an odd note to Loki's voice, and Thor glanced to where he was sure his brother's face was. His vision sharpened to an almost painful clarity, and his breath felt like fire roiling in his chest.

He pulled in a deep breath, and then released it, heat blowing past his lips.

"Do not worry." He said. "I have a plan."

He could feel the frown sent his way. "The last time you said that you  _died_." Loki chastised sharply. "Bad plan."

His mouth pulled into a broad, exhilarated smile. His eyes began to glow, and white sparks crackled in their depths. Thunder rolled.

Loki sighed. "Terrible odds." He muttered.

Energy hummed through his veins, and his skin began to tingle. Thor looked out across the dark lands and at the dark shapes moving across it. "Worried, brother?"

"No, not at all. Just try to leave some of it standing!" Loki retorted, and there was a blur in the air as he left.

The corner of Thor's mouth lifted, but it was mirthless. Then a roar echoed up from the base of the rock-strewn slope, and Thor looked down. A leather-skinned dragon crouched among the boulders, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. It lashed its tail, leaving smoldering black trails in the earth, and as it shook its wings the earth shuddered.

Behind him, clouds rolled over the crest of the mountain, swirling and shimmering as ominous light flickered within their depths.

Thunder shuddered through the air, vibrating through his chest. Thor narrowed his eyes, and began to twirl Mjolnir. Every dark thought, every sorrow, all of his  _rage_  filled him and thrummed through his limbs.

The dragon roared again, taking several steps up the slope.

Thor grinned.

"Come to me, beast." He growled.

The dragon leapt, wings spreading like black sails, and it flew up at him with maw open and teeth glinting. Its roars shook the air and its wings made the ground tremble.

Thor pulled off his red cloak and tossed it aside; there was no room for any possible hindrance. Then he ran forward, and jumped. Mjolnir swung through the air.

There was a deafening  _CRACK!_

The dragon's body landed, limply and twisted, upon the rocks a hundred yards up the mountain. It's head lay folded beneath the body. Teeth and bone and blood littered the rocks around it.

Thor ran down the mountain side, stones and ash flying and skittering before him. The mist parted around him from the speed of his passing, and as he gained the land, and the masses of dead and the creatures that filled it, the air suddenly echoed with sounds of anger and warning. More dragons rose up from the barren fells, leaving fire in their wake, and black ravens with bloodied beaks screeched and dove down upon him. The dishonored dead— murderers, thieves, betrayers— paused in their suffering howls and the Furies that tormented them turned with hollow eyes and angry growls, raising their rods of thorns to strike down the trespasser.

Creatures of nightmares. Monsters of the dead. Tormentors.

The grief he had felt for an eternity turned to blinding rage. It rose up from his depths and sang through his veins and took him over, and he could have laughed for the relief and beauty of its release. The sky became a roiling mass and lightning lit the air. Thunder crashed, mixing with his voice as he spun and struck. Dragons exploded into pieces of fire, flying through the air and burning on the ground where they crashed. The Furies screeched and struck at him, rods swinging and thorns whistling past his face so closely he could feel the breath of their needle points.

Thor roared and swept their legs out from under them, breaking bone and shattering limbs.

He pushed his way inward across the land, heading for where he knew Hela had her Hall. Droves of dark creatures, living and not, assailed him at every step, but Thor was in his storm— there was nothing here to hold him back. No innocents who could get caught in the crossfire, no structures to avoid damaging.

Nothing but pure, unleashed power.

Drops splattered his shoulder and he shouted, his skin blistering with liquid fire. Thunder shook the air as he spun around, his eyes crackling. Serpents crawled up from the banks of the river, their narrowed eyes glowing, unearthly and pale. Their mouths opened wide, revealing fangs as long as swords and tongues like forked whips. One hissed, and spat steaming venom at him.

He was running. With a twist his avoided the venomous acid, and it spattered the rocks and hissed and steamed. Thor bared his teeth as he barreled into their midst, dropping Mjolnir on the head of the one who'd spat at him, crushing the skull and breaking the lower jaw from the upper. Serpentine bodies surrounded him, twisting and curling in a writhing mass of hissing and poison and fangs.

The storm rolled within him, and energy crackled through his limbs, gathering in his core. Thor lifted Mjolnir, and then he was bending and spinning as he swung the hammer around in a great circle, lightning exploding all around him, filling the air with blinding light and the hot smell of ozone and inhuman shrieks and charring flesh.

He had no time to acknowledge the twisted, burned remains. Ravens swept down upon him, talons like daggers and stained, razor beaks open, black eyes glittering with rage. More furies rushed in from all sides, and Helheim's own Ghost Warriors, armed to the teeth, charged him, rotting corpses with cruel grinning faces and hollow eyes of death.

Thor spread his feet wide, rolling his shoulders. With his left hand outstretched and open to the sky the clouds began to swirl and churn, lightning building and flashing in their bowels. With his right hand he spun Mjolnir, twirling the air, and then he swung his hammer in a scooping manner, and as the whirlwind pulled rocks and dirt and dust and ash and fire and bone into itself, every enemy was caught in the maelstrom. The strength of the ravens' wings availed them not. Dragons that brought fire in their wake turned to claw their escape into the earth, only to be caught up in the swirling vortex that grew and grew like a live thing. Furies and Ghost Warriors shrieked and shouted in rage, swallowed whole.

The storm above brewed and crashed impatiently.

The whirlwind swelled with its victims, a dark cloud filled with the cries of the doomed.

Thor raised his arms, and lightning poured down from the sky, eagerly rushing into him.

More of Helheim's dark inhabitants rushed in to attack, mistakenly thinking the pause to be their momentary opening.

Thor grinned.

There was a deafening scream of energy. White lightning and fire poured out of him, rushing from Mjolnir in a terrifying, concentrated stream into the whirlwind and setting the entire swirling mass on fire. It poured from him down to the ground, whirling and rushing out in great burning waves that surged across the ground, consuming everything in its path.

When it was over, it was silent and empty. Thor closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

There was a breeze.

His eyes opened, white and flashing.

Hela stood on a fell, her green cloak lapping gently in the ash strewn wind, curling softly around her form. She held in her hand a long sword, blade gleaming with a cold light, the bone handle long and delicately carved.

Her one green eye seemed to glow faintly, like an emerald held up to the sun. The other was hidden beneath the golden mask that covered half her face.

Her mouth curled softly. "Odinson." She murmured.

Thor straightened, rolling his shoulders back. Thunder echoed ominously in the swirling clouds. "Hela."

Strands of black hair fluttered against her pale skin. She stepped to the side, walking slowly down the fell, armor glinting. A long, jeweled dagger clinked against her side. "If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was knock on my door."

"Release them."

Her look was quick. "No."

He lifted Mjolnir. Lightning cracked across the sky, and his eyes flickered. "I will give you one warning."

She crouched, and her eye slitted, its light suddenly glowing like a lantern. "And I heed it not."

Thor's vision tunneled, and the storm leapt in his veins. He ran forward and jumped, roaring, swinging Mjolnir down upon her. Hela spun out of the way, but he spun as well, bring Mjolnir around and up in an arc and catching the armored side of her face, sending her through the air. She recovered quickly and rolled backwards away from another strike, and then she was on her feet, and her sword flashed. Thor jerked himself back, the tip of the blade singing at his neck. She stabbed forward and he twisted out of the way, moving into the spin and sweeping Mjolnir around. Hela ducked as it passed over her by a hair's breadth, and she shoved forward, her fist and the handle of her sword striking Thor's middle. He grunted and punched back, sending Mjolnir into her chestplate.

She flew backwards, but a second later was up again, and he had to turn and duck to avoid her long blade. Mjolnir crackled with pent up lightning, and he hit her with it, time and again, sending a blow to her back or sweeping her off of her feet. She twirled in and caught his cheek, leaving a bleeding line, and he caught her arm and spun her round, twisting her into her own limb, but she slid down and under and pulled loose, almost as if the joints of her arm did not matter. Then she spun back, circling her sword round. It hit off Mjolnir.

Thor burned with the rising need to  _strike_ , and strike hard. It crackled and writhed within him, snapping in his eyes and sparking along his skin. He stared upon her beautiful porcelain face, perfect yet without any goodness in its construction, and he remembered another face—soft and lovely with dark brown eyes— and his heart cried out for vengeance…

_Try not to do anything stupid._

"Such rage." Hela whispered, her mouth curling like a perfect bow. Her heady green eye glowed with a strange hunger. "Such passion. Tell me, did Jane comprehend the full depth of your love?"

The black clouds writhed above them, thunder crashing in rage.

Thor swung Mjolnir low at her legs, and she leapt above it, and he continued with the forward momentum and struck out, and she caught his hammer with her sword, so he spun it round and pulled his hammer free. He lifted it high, and with a roar his inner maelstrom surged forth as he struck the ground. The earth shattered in a great wave, breaking and crumbling as far as the eye could see. Hela was hurled back among the rocks and broken turf, and when it was over she struggled to move. Thor bore down on her, his eyes flickering and sparking and Mjolnir encompassed with lightning.

"I heard her screams."

He froze.

"You couldn't, for the blood in her throat." Hela was smiling now, cruelly, sardonically. She rose to her knee, and brandished her sword. "But I could. Every one of them. Her death was not easy nor quiet…" Her words dripped with derision. "Her pain and screams filled my ears!"

Rage cut through him, and Thor spun Mjolnir, whirling the air till they both lifted from the ground and were pulled up into the vortex. She cut at him and he hit her. She slashed, drawing blood, and he crushed her breath. Her hands glowed brightly, and then a force slammed into him and threw him back into some boulders. The impact drove the breath from his lungs. Slightly unsteady, he pushed himself to his feet, and then flew back up into the twirling storm.

_Try not to kill her._

He flew straight and true, and hit into her with such force that they crashed into the earth and left a great crater. Then he pulled back from her crumpled form and held Mjolnir high, and lightning came down in sheets all around, setting everything afire. He bared his teeth and set to aim the destructive force at her when the edge of her form flickered for the barest moment.

It was enough.

Thor halted, and then he spun around, looking…

The true Hela smiled, and drove her dagger's blade deep into his side.

Thor's startled cry was cut short, his breath catching as the cold metal cut deep, deep into him till its point reached his core. For a moment his mind went white, but then his vision cleared and she was  _there_ , her eye glowing and her mouth spread wide in anticipation as she said something he couldn't understand in some language he'd never heard. But she was there, too close to him now to escape, and he smiled and closed his fist in her cloak and raised Mjolnir to sky to call the full force of the storm down upon her.

And then the cold blade buried deep in his body flared white hot, and he screamed as the lightning poured down into him and he was rent apart from the inside out.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note: I wrote this waayyyyy before Ragnarok came out, so this Hela does not match the movie Hela. When researching Hela (Marvel's comic version) on Wikipedia, it said she has a magical cloak and that without the cloak Hela is very weak and can barely move, and half of her appears to be decayed.  
> Just so you know. Because I didn't.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

As Loki left to do his part he heard the dragon's roar, and heard the answering peals of thunder. He did not look back to watch his brother's triumph, but still he smiled grimly as he sped along through the cold air.

_Terrible odds indeed._

Down the other side of the mountain he sped, stepping lightly from rock to rock, small stones skittering down the slope as he rushed on. Over here, on this side of Helheim, the Asmegir prowled. They were those who were less evil than their comrades, and sought shelter on the other side of the mountain, away from the worst that Helheim had to offer. It was still a barren place, a cruel place, but it was safer.

It was where Hela's stolen victims were usually sent.

He gained the foot of the mountain, and ran onto the flats. He slowed, needing to pick his way carefully. Mist clung close to the ground, hiding cracks and boulders that littered the ground. Sound was muffled, silence seeming to press down from above, as though to suffocate all noise. It was hard to breathe.

Then, without warning, he was surrounded by bodies and shapes on all sides, pressing in around him and turning to stare as he threaded his way through them. Hollow eyes, shadowed eyes, grim faces, dark frowns. And then Loki saw them. They stood out in the grey, these victims of the Nine Realms, spots of shifting energy and color in an otherwise dull place, so obviously not belonging that Loki slowed and spread his hands in incredulity. Really, what on earth was Hela thinking? She couldn't use them to expand her power if she hadn't even properly made them a part of her world. She hadn't even made them truly dead…

His step faltered. Loki frowned.

Hela never made an oversight.

Not like this.

The warning he had felt from before tugged again, and his eyes grew sharp, searching. He could see nothing, which gave him unease. These souls were unprotected.

What was her game?

He had to finish this quickly and get back to Thor. Impatiently he strode towards them. "I am Loki of Asgard." He announced to the group who turned to look at him with fear and suspicion. "And I have come to set you free."

With a wave of his hands, and a  _great_  deal more energy than he cared to use, Loki created a swirling black portal in the mist that blew with wind and hissed unhappily.

"In you go!" He cried out, hands raised, struggling to hold it open. "Just run through… you'll each of you return to your own home! Now go!" He shouted, eyes narrowed. "Before I change my mind and leave you here!"

That did it. With cries of relief and only a few distrustful glances the captives surged forward, funneling into the portal and disappearing one by one. Loki held his hands up, fingers spread, and bared his teeth. His limbs quivered with effort, and he felt the pull of energy through his veins and on his heart.

"Loki!"

He snapped around. It couldn't be.

It was.

Jane ran to him, expression anxious and her dark eyes sharp. "What…"

"What are you doing here?" He demanded, feeling a foreboding dread.

"I…" She paused, seeming at a loss for words, lifting her hands and dropping them as she looked around. "I was in a car crash, and then I heard this voice and something… someone… pulling at me. And then it all went dark, and then I was here, and I've been here and… Where's Thor?"

The warning swelled and his heart clenched. Loki narrowed his eyes. "Who was it?" He hissed. "Who brought your here?"

"How the heck am I supposed to know?" Jane shot right back, her voice rising even as he felt her distress grow. "She had black hair and green eyes and parts of her were  _rotting_ …"

" _Hela_." Loki hissed.

"Where's Thor?" Jane demanded again.

He had to give her credit; she was a fiery creature.

"Why?"

"Because that's what she wants; she wants him." Jane shook her head, brown hair tossing in the wind of the portal. She put a hand to her belly which, Loki realized with a start, was gently swelled. Her dark eyes were shadowed with barely controlled anxiety and fear. "Something about a 'perfect storm' and a confluence."

The phrase caught his memory. "A Confluence? You're sure?"

"Yes. Why?"

Loki's mind raced, and he dared not move lest he lose it. A Confluence. An act or process of merging… A ritual, buried deep in the dust of the Asgardian library. It needed a conductor, to channel the merging into a fine stream… there had been one, on… What was it?

Then he remembered, and he looked at her sharply. "Did she carry anything? A charm? A weapon?" He asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Jane was staring at him, apprehension in her gaze. "Yeah. A dagger." She answered. "Jeweled, with a  _really_  long blade. It looked… it looked nasty."

Loki bared his teeth.

Jane's lips parted, and her eyes widened in realization. "He's here."

Urgency made his limbs tingle and his heart race. "Into the portal. You and your child."

"But…"

"Go!" He pushed her, ignoring her fear and her  _hope_  as she stared at him, ready to move, hands protectively covering the swell of her belly. "I will take care of Thor. You save yourself and your child."

She didn't move, indecision etched into her face.

"For his sake, Jane!"

She bit her lip, staring at him. Then she nodded once, sharply, and she turned and ran into the swirling dark hole.

It closed, and the mist was once again empty of all but those who belonged.

Loki ignored their hollow eyes, now fearful and hungry as they looked at him, and instead he ran. He ran as he had never run before, legs churning beneath him and boots gouging the earth of the mountain. Up its side he ran, and then he gained the crest and he stopped and looked out across the dark land of death. Wind whipped through his hair and nearly threw him off the mountain, and thunder rumbled and lightning crashed.

There. He could see the explosions of light far off to the west. Loki focused on the outer vicinity of the distant battle and then darted forward, snapping there in a moment and a flash of green light.

At first he was blinded and deafened at the same time, his bones rattling and his breath pulled from his lungs. His limbs tingled with airborne sparks and his nostrils burned with ozone. Then his body reacquainted itself with the new thundering atmosphere and he could see.

The battle was… magnificent. Loki had seen his brother fight more times in the last thousand years than he could count. Had born witness to his rage. But this… this was something else entirely.

Loki had never seen Thor move the way he moved now. It was almost graceful, almost a dance as he spun and thrust and leapt and struck… except it was too powerful, too dangerous to be truly called such. For a moment Loki allowed himself to simply watch and admire.

It was beautiful.

In a terrifying, glorious sort of way.

He was glad it was Hela and not himself, no matter that Thor was obviously holding himself back. Loki wondered if Hela knew the true danger she was in. As Thor was now, he could have destroyed her at least a dozen times.

And then Hela's form flickered, and even as Loki realized what that meant and opened his mouth to shout his warning, his feet lifting and  _running_ , he saw the dagger flash and then…

Loki ran. He ran as hard as he could, feet churning the ash, his vision tunneling and his blood hot in his veins. Thor's body was arched, and furious, knotted lightning was encompassing him and driving into the dagger's hilt with such force that Loki feared his brother would fly apart. The air grew hot and charged, biting his skin, emitting a piercing shriek that rivaled the screams that filled his ears and mixed with the ritual that Hela was chanting.

Loki yelled, fury exploding through him out of his raised hands, sending a shockwave through the air so great that the air actually bent and rippled in a wave. It hit into them, and Hela and Thor flew apart. Loki didn't watch his brother's body hit and skid in the rocks and ash; his vision glowed with rage, his legs pumping with furious speed. After Hela he went, even as she bounced and rolled along the ground, even as she scrambled to her feet and looked up to meet his eyes, the bloodied dagger sparking in her hand.

She laughed, and disappeared.

Loki slid to a stop, and spared a glance back. Thor was on his belly, but he was moving, putting his hands to the earth and lifting his face, which seemed white in the flashes of the storm.

"Go!" Thor yelled, his voice barely heard over the thunder that crashed around them. "Stop her!"

Loki hesitated, eyes glancing to Thor's wounded side.

"I've had worse!" Thor shouted at him. "Go!"

Loki went.

His senses sharpened, finding and following the trail of her magic, and when he snapped back into being it was in the dark obsidian stone of her Hall. She whirled around, green eye flashing, and Loki was upon her. She flew backwards and crashed into a pillar, barely crumpling at its base before Loki had his hands on her, fisting in her cloak and lifting her into the air. He spun, swinging her round and smashing her against the pillar again. He heard a satisfying  _crack_  come from her back. It obviously wasn't her spine, though, because suddenly his face was raked with nails as sharp as claws, and his feet went out as she swept a leg beneath them. Loki fell and rolled, ice growing and sharpening in his hand, and he slashed, the icy blade drawing blood.

Hela cried out, scarlet running down her face.

Loki spun with his momentum, slashing over and over again, giving her no time recover or recoil, till he had her pressed against the pillar with her eye glazing over.

With a final slash her green cloak fell away.

Her cloak shimmered and then turned grey, the edges fraying. Hela screamed, rotten, blackened flesh spreading out from beneath her golden mask till the entire half of her face was in the midst of decay. Fury contorted her features, and her eyes flashed as she struck at Loki with the jeweled dagger… but she had no more power, and her strength was gone.

Loki caught her throat and threw her down to the floor, pressing her against the stone and straddling her body with his knees on her arms. "This is what you get for putting everything into that enchanted cloak." He hissed. "Is that why you stole my brother's power?"

Hela struggled, her breath tight as she bared her teeth. "You know nothing." She snapped, her green eye glowing like a lamp. "You think you know him so well… but you know nothing of his true power! He wastes it with his control, portioning it as though it were a thing to be portioned! With it I would rule the Nine Realms… and burn Asgard to the ground!"

Red tinged his vision. Loki growled, and grabbed her wrist. His grip tightened and tightened and tightened, till her face whitened and her breath caught and then there was an audible  _snap_  and she cried out, her fingers splaying, the dagger clattering free on the stone floor.

Cold fury rolled through him. He wanted to kill her. He wanted break her bones and make her burn.

But Thor was defenseless and wounded. In the middle of Helheim.

So instead he released her throat and set his fingers, like talons, on her head. His eyes flared with green light and so did his hand, and then dark lines were pulling through her skin and into his fingers and she screamed, arching beneath him. Words tumbled into his mind, the ritual and all she knew of it now his, and when he was sure he had it all he checked that none of it remained with her, and then he let go.

Hela pulled in a grating, strangled gasp.

Loki leaned down till he was sure she could feel his breath. "Next time I will rend your limbs and flay your flesh." He snarled quietly in her ear. "Remember that the next time you think to trap the sons of Odin."

Her breaths were quick and tight. Her eye, wide but furious, was unblinking.

Snatching the dagger Loki swept to his feet and turned. The air parted before him, and he sprinted into it, not giving her a second glance.

He came to a stop in the ruined crater. The clouds still swirled above in an unending circle, random flashes lighting the here and there, thunder rolling slowly and ominously.

The dagger in his hand was hot.

Loki glanced down. He could feel it… And the sheer power left him breathless. He had always assumed that it was mostly flashy; throw a little wind around to stir things up, send lightning arcing into a few enemies, and anyone would be impressed. Not that he didn't recognize the force of the power his brother wielded. It was a fearsome thing indeed, and not to be trifled with.

But this…

His hand burned white hot, but without pain, and the energy vibrated through his bones and sparked through his flesh. It surged and roiled, searching for release, seeking to whirl free with wild abandon… it sang in his veins and pounded with the beat of his heart.

Loki breathed out, and felt heat on his breath.

It was heady… intoxicating… exhilarating…

A perfect storm indeed.

Loki closed his fingers around the hilt of the dagger, and his eyes began to glow. He could call it into himself. He could sense the rush of power, and oh, what he could do with it! It was enough to make his breath catch, and he found himself shaking.

And then the crimson liquid, congealing in rippled lines along the long, deadly blade, caught the light as lightning flashed overhead.

With a start Loki came back to himself, and he snarled. Lifting his eyes he looked to where he had left Thor, and saw nothing but rock and blowing ash.


	12. Chapter 12

Something clenched sharply inside. Loki spun, frantically searching. He ran to the spot… had Thor been attacked? Was he too late? But no, though there were scattered footprints of  _something_  having been there, there were no signs of struggle. Only a wide, deep stain in the earth that intensified his fear.

"Thor!"

It was silent. He bent near the ground, delicately tracing disturbed rocks, following some marks of dragging and strange prints… hand prints, smeared with sticky scarlet that also fell in great drops and lines. He followed the trail, hoping nothing else had, his breath caught in his chest and his lips pressed thin, green eyes large with the intensity of his focus. The slow, dragging trail curved around into a large pile of boulders that could have formed their own small mountain.

And there, tucked behind a large grey boulder, was Thor. He was slumped upright against the rocks, his pack rolled and pressed to his side as a compress. At first Loki wondered why he didn't use his cloak… and then, with a sickening clench in his stomach, Loki realized the scarlet spread over the ground was not his cloak.

"Thor!" Loki called, rushing to his side and dropping to one knee.

_His skin was so white… so very, very white…_

Loki caught his brother's lax face with one hand, searching it for any signs of life, disconcerted with the  _cold_  against his hand. "Thor?" He said again, and saw it… the faintest flicker of the eyelids, the merest breath from pale lips.

Loki glared at him, grabbing a limp hand and closing it around the dagger's hilt. "You had worse, my hide!" He rasped sharply. And then he muttered the chant, the words falling from his lips quickly and surely.

There was a deafening, startling  _CRACK_  and  _BOOM_  of thunder that Loki was sure ruptured his eardrums and then he was surrounded by white, crackling bolts of lightning that arced around him and encompassed his brother. Thor's body shuddered and convulsed, his eyes rolling beneath closed lids, and then his mouth opened and his head tipped back with a great breath. Loki clenched his teeth and ducked, trying not to get hit, gasping from the scorching heat and going blind from the blazing light.

But he stayed. His fingers were white from the crushing grip he kept on his brother's hand, keeping it firmly wrapped around the dagger, and he could  _feel_  the power pulsating and rushing through his brother's limb like a river set free.

And then it was over. The silence was almost as deafening, and Loki raised his head, blinking. Thor's head rolled slightly, and hazy blue eyes looked at him.

Loki caught Thor's face and held it, searching his features, reassuring himself that it had  _worked_  and Thor was still  _here_. "You idiot!" He hissed venomously. "You fool! Go… you've had worse…" He looked down at Thor's side, at the pack pressed there and held in place with Thor's belt, and he undid it and pulled it down to look at the wound.

"Mm." Thor grunted.

Loki grimaced; there was a bloody hole between Thor's ribs, and the edges gaped and blood flowed down his side with every breath, and there was a cruel tear in the flesh where the blade had ripped free.

Roars and howls suddenly surrounded them, spine chilling and close.

"Idiot." Loki hissed again. Thor was still bleeding, but he had no  _time_ … He heard the skittering of rocks and the beating of wings and he thought of how far away the portal was, and tried to ignore the fear that thrilled in his limbs. With a quick movement he slipped his hands beneath Thor's arms and  _heaved_ , gritting his teeth and ignoring the deep, horrible groan as he lifted his brother's great weight and got his arms around him.

Thor's head rested on his shoulder, lolling sluggishly. "That doesn't look good." He slurred in Loki's ear, and then Loki felt him frown. "What did you  _do_?"

He didn't know what Thor was looking at and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

A growl sounded right behind him, low, guttural, and hungry…

…and then he was crushed flat by an immovable band, and they were flying.

Wind whipped around him, enraged howls following and surrounding them, and still they went faster and faster. Thor's arm was around him, crushing him to the broad chest, and he knew without looking that Mjolnir was cutting a path through the sky.

Wings drew close. Sharp teeth snapped.

Thor flew ever faster. Loki held gripped the leather armor with white-knuckled hands, closing his eyes as his hair whipped into them. He felt the air thicken, pushing, bending… and then there was the sound of the explosion and he wondered, briefly, just how  _fast_  they were going… and then he decided he didn't want to know.

They hit something. Rock flew everywhere.

Sand swirled and buffeted them, the light blinding even through his closed eyes. And then it hit his face and went into his nose and scraped his face…

And they were in pitch blackness. A screech sounded directly ahead of them, ending abruptly as they collided and he felt pelted by bits of something and then the darkness was gone and leaves were slapping his cheeks. They crashed into dirt and grass and Loki gagged and spat…

… and got a mouthful of sour, watery scum that left him coughing when they hit the frigid air…

…and then they were in a blinding sunset. Something hot was spreading between them, coating and wet, and Loki grasped Thor's armor. "Thor!" He shouted into the wind. "We have to…" Then he realized they were descending. He felt the strength leaving his brother's limbs, felt the strong body growing lax, and with a jolt of alarm Loki looked up to see his brother's eyes roll.

The earth rushed up to meet them, and they crashed into the hard sand and rough rocks, rolling, skidding, sliding for a couple hundred feet. Then it was silent. The dust settled. A breeze blew gently.

The two forms, sprawled and half buried, didn't move.


	13. Chapter 13

The world was slow, unwilling to come into focus. It wavered and blurred, tipping beneath him so that his already unwell stomach rolled dangerously. His hand clenched the gravel beside his head and he bared his teeth, gritting them against one another, mustering the last shreds of his nonexistent strength to move.

He had to move. He had to see… where was he…?

With a laborious motion he rolled the last little bit, and craned his head up to look, bleary eyes trying to see, and there… a dark form in the shadowed, rocky sand, lit by the last rays of the sun. Unmoving.

His set his hands into the sand, his expression betraying the jolt of desperation that shot through him, and he stammered his brother's name, his voice weak and unable to rise above a croak. He pushed up, and for a moment his vision went white and he gasped as torn muscles shifted, cutting him deep and paralyzing his lungs. Everything greyed around him, till the only thing he could see was that dark form, sand settling against it.

_No… Not now… Not after everything!_

So he pushed up anyway, breath pulling in with a strangled, grating sound. His knees were numb as they pressed into the sand, and his muscles shook as he placed one hand in front of the other, arms threatening to give out beneath him with every step forward.

"Loki." He rasped. "Loki!"

It stabbed deep, deep into his core with every motion. Thor faltered, a hand going out from under him, and he panted as the fall jarred his body.

"Loki?" He wheezed, and reached, fingers digging into the sand and rocks as he pulled himself forward another foot.

Why wasn't his brother waking up?

It seemed he wasn't going anywhere… he kept reaching forward and pulling, dragging slowly across the ground, and still he seemed so far away. Too far away. The sand rasped under him, and small rocks dug into his arms and his hands. He groaned.

He had already lost Loki once. He couldn't…

It was with a jolt that he heard his name spoken, suddenly and breathlessly, and he felt the sand move and fly before him as something disturbed it in great haste. He looked up, blinking, his eyes burning with sweat, and there was Loki upright… upright and reaching for him. He didn't understand… he thought Loki was laying there, not moving, he thought he'd been trying to get to him… to help him… but he had nothing left to wonder at it. His tired mind just accepted it, and instead chose to rejoice in relief that Loki was  _there_  and that he didn't have to try anymore.

A sigh left him, and he closed his eyes, pushing his arms forward, pulling himself the last few feet, desiring only to be at his brother's side. He heard his name floating towards him as if through water, and finally,  _finally_  he reached Loki, his hands closing over warmth and rough cloth and leather, and he felt strong hands grab and hold his shoulders.

"Thor…at y… doing?"

The hands were warm. Thor laid his forehead on the sand, resting against the cloth and leather, and focused on trying to breathe with tightening lungs, the world suddenly tipping and spinning again. He was turned to his side, something sliding beneath his head at the same time, and Thor found himself held secure against the unsteady world, held tight against something solid and warm and strong, and somehow that made it a little easier to breathe.

It felt like a brand was in his side; it pierced him, deep and sharp. A hand pressed to it and he groaned.

"…erves y… ight! I…iot!" There was a growl.

He knew that voice. He knew that tone. He started to open his eyes, and blinked, trying to clear his sight so he could clearly see the dark shape that leaned over him. Loki's face swam in and out of focus, as if his eyes couldn't be bothered to work properly.

"Y…re… _ill_  blee…ing."

His side felt hot and wet, as if he'd been soaked with a bucket of warm water. He felt his shirt stick to his skin, unwilling to move even as it was pulled up.

Loki's voice was low, the tone warning Thor more than the words. "Thi…wi…urt."

The hand pressed his side. True, pure, roaring fire erupted in the wound, burning all down the long, deep length. Thor jerked, one leg kicking reflexively, his fingers finding the hand pressed to his side and digging into it, the appendage flaring hot from the spell and completely unmovable.

And then it was over. The hand grew cool beneath his, and Thor's eyes fluttered, and he sighed.

"…fool." Loki scolded. But there was an odd note to his voice…

He felt lack of strength, a strange weightlessness and numbness in his limbs, and Thor blinked slowly. A fair face, a strong face, looked down at him, green eyes too wide and shining despite the harsh set to the features.

"You di…isten."

"I'm sorry." Thor rasped, his voice a whisper. "I'm sorry…"

The hold around him grew tighter, pressing him close with arms deceivingly strong.

"…at…you thinking?"

Thor swallowed, trying to moisten his mouth enough to talk. He had to tell Loki. "I couldn't… Not after…I failed everyone else… I couldn't leave you again…"

Loki's mouth pressed into a thin line, and Thor realized, in a moment of clarity, that Loki was taking it as a slight. Again. That Thor had flown him back through the portals and gotten him out not because of any love, but out of guilt or a sense of debt. Thor's brows pulled together. " _No_ …" he gasped hoarsely. "No… no…"

Loki shook his head. "Save…r strength." He said quietly.

" _No!_ " Thor found the strength and lifted his arm, grabbing Loki's leather jerkin roughly, forcing Loki down. He stared, his blue eyes wide and burning, needing Loki to  _hear_  him. To hear him and  _know_. "I couldn't… lose  _you_! Not again…" His chest burned, air harsh and unforgiving in his lungs, and his voice grew more hoarse. "Not you… I don't have enough left… to lose  _you_."

Loki's eyes were so large. So green. So bright. They caught the light of the setting sun, and seemed to shimmer as they stared down at him, unblinking. Then he smiled. A quick, flashing smile, and his hand covered Thor's and held it. "…u're a fool."

Thor's mouth lifted and he smiled as something ran down his face, a warm trickling line, and his breath huffed… he wanted to laugh, but did not have the air. The motion ignited the ache deep inside, an ache that pained and cut sharply, running like a blade through him. He must have made a sound, must have done something because Loki's hold on him tightened.

"…old on, Thor. Ho… on. Ja… alive. Sh… ali…."

The world was spinning again, whirling around them so much that Thor lost his breath. The earth tilted beneath them, and though he knew it wasn't real his body stiffened and jerked in reaction as it tried to keep from falling.

"…ear me? …ane's al…!"

"Loki…" There was more he'd hoped to say. More he'd hoped to tell Loki; that he knew now that what they had before was gone forever. That he knew they were no more the boys who'd fought and played together; they were men, shaped by cruel circumstances and the choices they'd each made. He knew that, but he'd hoped… how he'd hoped… that they could get to know each other anew. He wanted to say all of that, but grey shadow edged his vision and black dots were filling his sight.

"I'd hoped… we could be friends…" He managed to whisper.

" _Thor!_ "

And then everything was lost to him.

* * *

~TDW~

* * *

For a moment, Loki didn't know what to do.

He was alone.

Alone, in the middle of a Midgardian desert, holding his brother.

He'd tried telling Thor about Jane, blurting it out without any preamble, but it hadn't been enough. Thor hadn't shown any sign of hearing him; he wasn't even sure that Thor understood half of what he'd said.

Loki lifted his hand from Thor's side, revealing the wound. The skin was black, and the wound was burned shut and no longer bled.

For all the good it did.

_I'd hoped we could be friends._

Curse him! Loki swallowed, his throat tight and aching, and he tried to think. Tried to plan. That was what he was best at, wasn't it? Taking the unexpected and incorporating it seamlessly into his plans? Rolling with whatever life threw at him?

So why was he frozen now, his mind racing and yet strangely blank?

He looked down. In the deep golden light of the Midgardian sunset his brother was almost unrecognizable, and for just a moment he took the time to really  _look_.

Ash and soot covered Thor's skin and tangled in his hair. Purple, shadowy bruises were appearing, a testament to the fearsome battles against the monsters of Helheim, and blood… deep red, rich and incandescent… covered too much of him. There were some smears on his brother's cheeks, too bright and brilliant against the cold translucence of Thor's face.

Thor was never cold.

"Fool!" He snarled, arms tightening around his brother, lifting him and holding him close. "Idiot! Think!  _Think!_ "

He couldn't go to Asgard. Alone he could sneak in without detection, without any trouble, but there was no way he could deliver their Crown Prince—  _dying_ — without raising a little attention. A Midgardian hospital would have to do. He knew they had the ability to care for such wounds, if he could get Thor to them in time. Someplace where he, himself, could slip in and out undetected.

Wherever he went, he had to move fast.

And just like that his focus returned. Loki pulled Thor over to Mjolnir, and then he hooked the handle's loop to Thor's belt.

Then he shoved his arms around Thor and lifted, grunting, pushing and pulling till Thor was over his shoulder. He grabbed one of Thor's arms and held it over the other shoulder, and hooked an arm around the back of Thor's knee, balancing him. Then he tried to stand.

"Huh!" He grunted, muscles tightening and trembling slightly. His legs bunched, and then slowly straightened, his body straining under the unexpected weight. "This had better be because of Mjolnir, Thor." He ground out. "You weren't this heavy last time."

The air parted before him in a flash of green, and he ran into it. A moment later the desert was empty, and the sun disappeared.

Loki stepped out into a dark alley, grey buildings rising up on either side to immense heights, cigarettes and paper cups and other crumpled items of trash littering the edges of the damp street.

His form shimmered. He hurried forward, strong legs pumping, the weight across his shoulders seeming to grow with every step.

"Hey—" A dark shape huddled in the shadow of a dumpster suddenly stood up, pointing. "Isn't that Thor? What happened?"

"I found him." He panted, pausing. "Where's a hospital?"

"Just down the block to the left." The scruffy man 'looked' at him. "You from out of town, or something?"

"Yes." He grimaced, adjusting his hold, and he started to run again. "Thank you!" He called back.

"Hope he's all right!" The man shouted in reply.

The street lights and blaring signs were brilliant after the dark of the alley, but Loki paused only long enough to glance to the left and mark the entrance to the hospital. There were gasps and calls around him, people pointing and cars slowing down and horns honking, but he ignored them. He ran, as fast as he could, dodging the people clogging the sidewalk who stopped and stared dumbly as he weaved around them.

His patience didn't exist. "Out of the way!" He shouted, eyes blazing. " _GET OUT OF MY WAY!_ "

They scattered.

Thor's arm was cold in his. He sprinted.

Someone… possibly many someones… must have called the hospital to report a man bringing an injured Thor, because he was met at the door by an army of orderlies running out and scanning the streets, dragging a gurney with them.

What happened after that was a blur. Not being familiar with 'hospitals' all Loki could do was answer their questions to the best of his ability, within his assigned role. Enough information that they could help Thor immediately (" _I found him. He was stabbed. I don't have the weapon. He said something about a battle before he passed out._ "), but not so much that they would grow suspicious of him. (" _I'm sorry, that's all I know. I've never met him before now._ ")

After all, what would a regular New Yorker know about the battles of Thor?

Then he was left. He blinked his brown eyes and ran a hand through his brown hair. He clenched his other hand, trying to still the faint tremors.

The image of his brother— laying there on the white gurney, mask on his face and a flurry of people moving around him, touching him, holding him, looking at him, rolling him away through great metal doors— filled his mind's eye.

A nurse came out with a handful of paperwork and a pen, her eyes searching.

Loki shifted, blond hair cropped short, dark plugs in his ears, and he slipped out of the doors.

The hospital would call the Avengers. They would call Shield. Thor would be well taken care of.

There was nothing more for him to do.

Except for one thing.

It didn't take much to discover Jane Foster's grave. It was truly a beautiful thing; they did not burn boats here on Midgard, so it appeared that Thor had done the closest thing he could. Her marble urn rested on a stone funeral boat, which in turn sat atop a stone base with her name and years etched into its front.

And all of it was protected within the small mausoleum, with a locked iron gate for a door.

It would have been a wondrous, elegant, peaceful sight. If it weren't for the fact that the urn was shattered into a hundred pieces all over, as though it had exploded.

And Jane Foster was laying on the ground, face pressed to the floor and hidden under her hair.

Relief flooded through him so quickly and so hard that Loki released a harsh breath, and then he was moving, pulling out a cellphone he had lifted from someone and dialing quickly.

The other end rang twice, and then there was the click of connection.

" _I'm sorry, I'm unavailable right now, but please leave a message after the click and…"_

_"Oh really, Tony."_

_"Pay no attention to the interruption of Miss Potts…"_

"Mr. Stark, I have information for you regarding Thor and his beloved Jane." Loki said, giving little heed to the flow of chatter.

There was a pause. " _Who is this?_ " Tony Stark asked, all humor gone, a dark, urgent tone replacing it.

Loki continued in his borrowed, deep voice. "First come to the resting place of Jane Foster. Then, and only then, proceed to New York's General Hospital."

" _What…_ "

Loki closed the phone and threw it aside. He watched her for a moment more, noting the gentle rise and fall of her back as she breathed, and the peaceful expression on her face. What little he could see of it beneath her dark locks. He could see no visible injuries, and was quite certain that all was well, but it wouldn't hurt for her to be looked over by the competent doctors he had had the pleasure of meeting.

He pulled back, waiting in the shadows. Mr. Stark was nothing if not unpredictable, and he wanted to be sure that the Man of Iron didn't skip coming here first. If he went to the hospital instead, and found Thor, he might never make it here.

He wasn't disappointed.

A few minutes later there was the familiar hum and flickering lights and scarlet streak in the night sky, and then a resounding  _thud_  as the Man of Iron landed. The mask pulled back, and Tony's eyes were huge as he stared at the sight before him. He gave a juicy exclamation, and then blew the locks, nearly ripping the iron door from its hinges in his haste to open it.

"Jane? Oh my gosh… Jane? Can you hear me?"

Satisfied, Loki slipped away.

A final idea had occurred to him, and it was too delicious to pass up.


	14. Chapter 14

Worlds parted before him, shimmering in his wake, and he stepped out into the cool blue of night. The trees around him rose high and proud, their boughs thick with green leaves and heavy with their golden bounty.

The orchard graced the valley outside of Asgard's walls, spreading well over two dozen acres, and surrounded with an impenetrable wall of tended shrubs.

No one had ever managed to climb those shrubs. Ankles were inexplicably caught and tangled, thorns unexpectedly stabbed hands (no matter how gloved and protected), and prickers caught clothing so well and hard that the poor intruder would be rendered quite immobile.

He grimaced at the…  _unfortunate_  memory.

Loki breathed in deeply, walking on the soft grass, the zesty perfume of the blossoms and fruit filling his lungs and bringing a sharpness and clarity to his senses, prickling through his mind in a pleasant, awakening manner. Oh, how he had missed this place! Loki smiled, walking unseen in the orchard, looking about and admiring the tended beauty. He remembered how he had wandered here in his youth— once he'd mastered the trick of teleporting— sneaking in and out, planting weeds and invasive vines to wrap around the trees just so he could watch the caretaker's face redden with frustration as she ripped them away and then turned to search for the trickster she knew to be lurking somewhere. Many a time he'd run away, laughing and invisible, as juicy oaths were hurled after him.

Speaking of the caretaker… light was just brushing the edge of the horizon.

She would be up soon.

And Loki needed a plan.

He crouched down and lifted an apple that had fallen, and casually tossed it up and down, looking up at the heavy branches above him. How easy it would be to take what he needed and disappear, cloaked as he was. But of course it was not so simple. It never was. Without the touch of their caretaker to awaken their magic, to warm their skin and fill them with golden light, the apples were nothing. Lovely to look at, their scent crisp and sweet, they were dormant and useless without  _her_  touch.

Unfortunately there was no way she would willingly give any to him. No matter his words of honey that had flattered and won her over many a time in the past.

Yet once she picked her daily harvest there was no retrieving them, for she would deliver her baskets to the kitchens for the evening meal and that would be that.

Unless…

Loki stood, and tossed the apple up and down, and smiled.

With a flash he disappeared, and stepped out into the forest beyond the orchard. He walked around, studying the trees, frowning as he thought. What could draw her out? What would be enough to capture her attention?

The apple was cool in his hand. Loki glanced down at it, and then his green eyes twinkled with inspiration. It would take a little time, but that was of no consequence. He had the time.

With only a little work he cut the apple open and divested it of its seeds. Selecting a spot on the edge of the forest— a small, mossy rise in direct sight of the orchard— Loki created a small hole with his fingers and nestled the seeds inside, covering them with gentle care in moist earth. Then he held his hand upon the soil, and whispered something in quick words. A glow rose up from beneath his hand, and then the soil under his palm moved, and something tickled his skin.

Loki smiled.

Leaving the little green sprout to grow, shielded from all sight till he gave the word, Loki then whisked his way back into the orchard and settled himself in the highest branches of one of the trees. He was just in time.

A lady fair stepped among the trees, dressed in a simple, undyed tunic belted at the waist, and carrying with her a pair of shears, the blades glinting with deadly light. Her hair was as thick as ever, held back by a simple braid, though a few strands still freely hung about her finely set features.

Her ochre eyes looked up, round and bright and searching.

Loki waited.

She stopped, staring, and then her eyes narrowed and she swung her shears up with practiced strength, and without any preamble she shut them fast, the blades snapping together with deadly force.

The dead branch, devoid of fruit or leaf, fell. It landed beside her on the moist ground with a  _thump_.

Idunn reached down with a callused hand, and tossed the branch behind her on a small pile of other branches, some dead, others sick. Then she straightened and brushed her hair from her face, smearing some dirt across her cheek.

She was strong. The hardened, muscled power of her limbs was evident as she moved, and yet her motions were full of such fairness and grace that Loki was sure few recognized it.

Resting his elbows on his knees, Loki watched.

And he smiled.

All about Idunn was golden. From her long hair that was lightened from the sun, to her tanned skin, rich and warm in color; even her ochre eyes seemed to have the light of the setting sun nestled deep within their depths.

How often had he sat in the boughs of her trees, just like this, book in hand, reading in the peace and quiet? How often had she indulged him that peace, watching him grow from boy to youth?

When had he stopped taking advantage of that peace?

For most of the day she worked. She surveyed the state of her trees, watered those that were new and still small, and trimmed back some high grass and weeds that were attempting to creep in along the edges. By then it was mid-afternoon. Her long, pale locks had freed themselves more and more from their braided confines, and her suntanned skin glistened with dew. She gathered her tools, and cleared away the pile of cut branches. When she returned she carried with her a great stack of enormous woven baskets.

_Finally. It is time._  Loki leaned forward, his green eyes flashing.

Idunn set the baskets down beside the largest of her trees, and then she left again, only to immediately return with a ladder.

For over an hour she picked, till nearly all of her baskets were filled. Loki wondered that she was able to carry them, each basket easily holding two bushels of the rich, golden fruit, and he freely admired the strength of her limbs as she lifted a laden basket and carried it to a cart, already loaded with the rest of her harvest.

As she filled the last basket, he watched how gently she pulled the apple free from its branch. How the golden skin glowed beneath her fingertips, the rich light seeping from her hand and settling deep into the fruit.

If only he knew her secret…

She descended the ladder for the last time, and bent to pick it up, her shoulders bunching with the great weight she lifted.

Loki's eyes flashed, and he snapped his fingers.

The cloak dropped from the now fully grown tree, ripe with fruit, and it appeared upon the distant mossy hill. It glowed in the light of the sun, golden apples glinting and flashing as the breeze rustled its branches.

Idunn, ever attuned to  _her_  trees, abruptly let go of the basket and straightened. She twirled around and stared through her orchard, eyes searching till they found that distant mossy hill, and the surprise couldn't have been greater on her face.

"Where in Yggdrasil did you come from?" She murmured, her voice low and deep like the richest honey.

With all the grace of a wild hart she darted forward, disappearing under the thick boughs. Loki moved and craned his neck, searching, but by the time he saw her again she was already out of the orchard and gaining the distant hill. Bemused, Loki sat back on his branch and draped his arms over his knees. Norns. He'd never figured out just how she managed to slip out of the impenetrable hedge, whether there was a hidden door or whether it parted and opened only for her, or if she teleported as he did.

Quick as his eyes were, they were never quick enough to discover it.

She reached the hill and the tree, and was searching it. Loki ceased his watching.

The time was  _NOW_.

Fast as ever he could Loki leapt gracefully from the branch and landed in a crouch on the rich earth beneath. Without a pause he pushed off, running to the baskets, where the mound of golden, glowing fruit just waited… ripe for the picking.

He lifted an apple and held it up. The light reflected in his eyes.

He grinned.

Three apples in quick succession were stowed in the pouch at his belt.

Stepping back Loki looked around. A strange feeling settled in his chest; he had missed this place, with its warm light slanting down through the green leaves, sparkling dust floating in the golden beams. The peace and the quiet and the sweet fragrance stilled his mind in a pleasant manner, his limbs tingling and refreshed.

But his time was up, and now that he had his prize he must move with haste. There were those who depended on it.

With renewed energy and spirit, he opened the space before him and stepped into its streaming light. The air closed, and there was nothing to mark his having been there.

For several minutes there was naught but silence.

Idunn entered her orchard, and walked through the trees, a pondering and distracted set to her face, carrying something in the folds of her tunic. She reached her abandoned basket, and stared down at the mound of golden fruit that filled it.

Her smooth, sun kissed face relaxed. Her eyes glowed and sparkled with amused warmth, and a soft smile touched her lips. She gently shook her head.

Then she released the folds of her tunic, and set three new golden apples on top of the basket.


	15. Chapter 15

The hospital was surprisingly quiet, despite the busyness of the emergency room at this time of night. Loki made his way to the upper levels, shifting his appearance every floor or so. His most convincing disguise, so far, had been that of a cleaning man with a rolling tub of water and a mop. No one had questioned him, or had even looked at him. Who would notice a common servant, anyway? So instinct and nature was not so very different across the worlds…

With a sharp ear and open eyes he managed to discover the floor where his brother was. Cloaking himself to all sight he made his way through the maze of halls that all looked the same, till at last he found the right one. It was a dead end, his brother's room the last one on the left. Just outside of the door was a nurse sitting in front of a computer with several monitors and screens that showed changing numbers and colored, ever-fluctuating lines. The door to the room was partially open.

It was very quiet.

Loki slipped in.

It took very little for his eyes to adjust. To one side there was a counter with a sink and a cupboard, a dim light illuminating it, but over the bed it was dark. Dark but for neon numbers and moving lines that graced  _more_  monitors rising high above the head of the bed.

And on the bed itself there was a sight Loki had never grown used to seeing.

Thor was all light and movement. Rarely was he still, and even when he was it was like watching the sun… still and motionless while it writhed and swirled within itself with unending energy.

This was no sun. This was dark, and silent. The injuries stood out in stark relief on skin far too pale, the strong limbs now laying limp and unresponsive on the crisp sheets. Wires were attached to him at various points, sensing his vitals and displaying the disappointing information on the screens over his bed.

And Jane was there. Dressed in a hospital gown, with a white hospital bathrobe tied around her, her brown hair loose and her feet in funny looking grey socks. She was sitting in a wheelchair, her head laying on the mattress, her breaths even, and she was holding Thor's hand in hers.

For a long minute Loki just stood there, staring at them, fighting an odd ache that had settled itself within his chest and clenched within his stomach. He could see that despite his best hopes and attempts all was not well. Jane was healthy; he was pleased. But there were tear marks on her face and a redness to her nose and eyes that spoke to a very deep distress. Even in sleep her fingers were white-knuckled as they clutched the giant, lifeless hand.

There was a soft knock behind him, and Loki quickly stepped aside and into the shadows of the far wall as a nurse came in. Her round face was tender with sympathy as she gently took Jane's shoulders and woke her up.

"I want to stay." Jane mumbled, instantly awake.

"I know, but the doctor wanted another round of tests before his shift was done, and you need to sleep in a bed."

"He hasn't woken up yet. I want to be here when he wakes up." Jane's voice was hoarse and scratched, the words thick as if her nose were plugged. Her dark eyes shimmered, but they were hard as she looked at the nurse. Unrelenting. Warning. "I'll be here when he wakes up."

The nurse sighed. "Okay." She murmured. "I'll see about setting up a bed in here for you. But you have to come and do the test, and then sleep with a monitor on."

"Here."

"If possible." The nurse helped Jane sit up in the wheelchair. "Think of your baby."

Jane's jaw was tight, her fingers white and tense in her lap, but she nodded. She reached out and covered Thor's hand with her own. Loki could see the faintest tremor in it. "Wake up." She whispered. "Please, Thor. Wake up."

There was no answer.

Jane swallowed. "Okay." She said. "I'll be gone for a little bit, but I'll be right back, okay? I promise." She let go of his hand, and patted it softly, shakily. "I love you."

Then the nurse wheeled her out and partially closed the door behind them.

It was silent.

Loki swallowed, and took a soft step closer, his eyes flicking to the screens. Thor was weak. He may have gotten his big brother to help, but it seemed his welfare was still uncertain.

Dreadfully so.

He bared his teeth, walking slowly around the bed, staring down at his brother's face. A mask was strapped to it, puffs of clouded steam marking each breath.

This was not his brother. Only once before could Loki recall an injury so grave as to lay Thor out in such fashion, and that instance had left him in a far worse condition than this. Territorial bull bilgesnipes were not to be trifled with, and did not appreciate clever trickery. A lesson Loki had learned hard and well.

He banished the memory, silencing the echoes of his screams and horror.

"You always think yourself invincible." He whispered into the quiet of the room.

Thor did not respond, dark lashes low upon bruised skin.

Loki's lips thinned, and he breathed deeply, soothing nerves that were suddenly quivering and jumpy.  _Shh_. He whispered silently, but it did not help.

He closed his fingers over Thor's hand. The machines had not changed their numbers and their lines, but he could feel what they could not. "You are fading."

Thor wasn't just fading. The light that Loki so desperately sought could hardly be felt beneath his hand; the power, that had nearly consumed him when contained in the dagger, barely tingled through Thor's veins.

He had no more time.

Loki pried his hand from Thor's with desperate roughness. He grabbed one of the apples from his pouch, and with the knife that materialized in his hand he cut it. Then he leaned over, far over, nearly leaning on his brother, and he pulled the mask from Thor's face.

He prodded Thor's mind without any gentleness or reserve. Thor's head turned, his lips parting in a conscious breath.

"Here." Loki hissed, slipping a golden sliver between Thor's lips. "Eat. Swallow." He watched and waited as Thor chewed, and was ready with another small bite when he was done.

Thor ate, somehow, aware enough to follow his brother's instructions but still floating on the edge of unconsciousness, prodded into action by Loki's insistence.

He was so weak.

Loki had never seen him so weak.

"Eat it." There wasn't much left now. He let the core drop to the sheets, and carefully slivered the last piece into manageable bites.

A few minutes later the last of the golden fruit was swallowed.

With gentle care, Loki returned the mask to Thor's face, settling it over his nose and mouth, and then he stood. His lips were thin, and he stared down. His heart beating far too hard, painful in his chest. Waiting.

Waiting.

The lashes fluttered, and then brilliant, bleary eyes looked up, searching, fighting past the fog that filled them, struggling for clarity. For a moment they looked around, and then suddenly, quite suddenly, they settled, somehow and impossibly staring— if not directly at Loki's eyes— then at his cloaked form.

With but a small hesitation, Loki reached out.

Calluses brushed calluses as he covered the large, tanned hand, fingers curling around it and pressing.

Mist fogged the mask covering Thor's face, and Loki could swear he heard his name on that whispered breath.

The air shimmered faintly, and then Loki smiled. "Now you see me, brother." He said softly.

Thor blinked, the motion slow and sluggish, his lids drooping. The mask fogged.  _"Loki…"_

He crouched, bringing himself to Thor's level. "Rise and shine, Thor." He said, keeping his voice low and quiet. "It is not like you to be idle."

Thor blinked again. Slower.

_"You're… safe."_

"Did you doubt me?" Loki scoffed, but there was no heat.

Thor blinked again, and looked around, taking in where he was in a moment, and then returning his attention to Loki.  _"It's over."_

"It is." Loki confirmed. "Hela is well defeated, and we are out of that wretched place."

 _"You're safe."_ Thor closed his eyes.  _"It's over."_

Loki frowned. The words were familiar; too familiar. Too connected with a rather painful memory. A dangerous memory. "Cut that out." He said, and though his tone was gentle it had a sharp, cutting edge.

Thor looked at him.  _"Jane… I saw her…"_

"Yes—"

_"She was here. We'll soon… be together…"_

Loki realized with a start of dread what Thor meant.

Thor did not know, and because he did not know he misunderstood. He was letting go.

"No." Loki gritted, tightening his hold on Thor's hand till his brother winced, demanding and securing that blue gaze. "You listen, brother. Listen well. Jane is not lost. She is waiting for you to  _wake up_."

Thor's brows drew together.

Loki drew close, so close he would have felt his brother's breath but for the mask. He drew close so that he was sure Thor would hear him. "Jane is alive." He murmured, and went on as confusion filled Thor's gaze. "Her 'death' was Hela's doing. I returned her safely home with the other victims, and she is here now, waiting for you. Your child as well, safe in her womb." Loki ignored how his hand shook. "They are returned, Thor." He said again, searching for that light… that light that was for the moment missing in those eyes… that Light that would assure him, as it always did, that all was well.

A flicker was in those blue depths, and Loki could  _feel_  Thor study him, those eyes burning into his as Thor searched for the truth, and he tried… Norns, he  _tried_ … to pull back the barriers and let Thor see. Because if Thor believed his words a lie, then all was lost.

For a long, tense minute there was silence.

_"Jane… is alive?"_

The hope, the disbelief and the wonderment, was almost too much to hear.

Thor's eyes fluttered closed for the barest of moments, his eyes glimmering, a breath of relief fogging his mask.  _"You saved her…"_

Loki slipped his free hand into the pouch at his belt, and pulled out another golden apple, the glow of its magic faint but  _there_ , deep and powerful, within. He held it up, between him and Thor. The light reflected off of both of their eyes.

"One was for you." He said, fighting to get the words past a suddenly tight and thick throat. "To save you from your own stupidity. Again."

Thor's eyes flicked from the apple core on the sheets to the whole apple in Loki's hand and then back to him, amazement in his gaze.

"The other is for you to do with as you see fit." Loki let the unspoken meaning hang in the air, and waited. He really hoped Thor wouldn't look to closely at the… uncharacteristic…  _sentimental_ … gift.

And yet Thor, the rash dullard who somehow still  _knew_  him, did look.  _"Why?"_

Loki gritted his teeth and glanced to one side.

 _"You… were the one… who told me to say goodbye. Why do you help me now? This is… this…"_  Thor trailed off helplessly, eyes flickering to the precious gift Loki proffered.

Stupid sentiment! Why must it be  _said_? Couldn't Thor just take it and be done?

Thor's grip on his hand suddenly tightened, desperate and crushing, and Loki flinched with the pain.

_"Tell me!"_

He froze. Those words, once spoken by him now spoken  _to_  him, betrayed in Thor the desire to hear it and therefore know it; and how well he understood. His green eyes flashed dangerously, his face all hard lines as he stared down at his brother. His chest burned with  _something_ , and his breath was tight. He was not one for grand, sentimental declarations; what could he say? How could he explain what he hadn't fully realized himself?

Why?

The pleasure of a good trick. That was the easy answer. To enter Asgard's gates, to break into the most prized and sacred of places and take what was considered one of their greatest treasures without them even  _knowing_ … what a glorious achievement!

Yet that would not suffice. It did not explain his desperate  _need_  to do it, nor did it explain why he was here now.

So he just spoke. Without crafting his words, without thinking about where they came from, he let them fall from his lips quickly.

"You are my brother. You are not made to be broken. Yet you were." Loki paused. "No one is ever ready." He whispered, his voice almost a hiss. "And I could not bear your grief."

For a moment there was silence. And then, in the dark, a single sparkling line fell from his brother's eyes. The Light, dim at first but growing stronger, returned to those blue depths.

The strong fingers, so warm within his own, closed in a slow, iron grip.

Loki smiled.


	16. Chapter 16

For a month sleep had been a thing to dread. A thing dark, deep, and drowning, and filled with memories better forgotten. Then for a day it became all encompassing. Blank. Empty. Nothing. Filled with a cold and a void that felt like losing one's grip on the edge of a cliff and then falling and falling and falling and then… and then he woke up. And Loki…

Now he floated. He knew he was asleep, and for the first time in a long time it felt soft. Deep. Restful. As though his body were finally healing. Finally at peace. He was warm, held and secure, and that was enough.

Just when he began to awake he wasn't sure, but his thoughts began to prick with life and he became aware of the soft mattress and the warm blanket and a pleasant numbness, and of a warmth and a weight and a scent that made him feel loved and safe. He turned his head into the softness of brown hair and breathed deeply, the scent filling his senses, and he sighed contentedly.

Her hand moved in sleep, small and gentle on his chest, her fingers curling and stretching.

Thor's eyes opened. He looked down upon the brown head that laid on his chest, the slender, strong arms wrapped protectively around him, holding him close. A face so intimately dear, so intricately known and entirely beautiful, relaxed in sleep. Except for the lines of worry in her skin, set deep between her brows and at the corners of her eyes.

For a moment Thor couldn't breathe, and a sharp ache took his heart.

"Jane?" He whispered.

She jumped, her head lifting sharply as her eyes opened, bleary and filled with sleep. "Thor?" She mumbled, and then her dark eyes cleared and she  _looked_  at him. Her expression immediately changed, dark fear chased out by brilliant relief. "Thor! You're awake! You're awake… You're…" She looked over him, her fingers touching him everywhere, almost frantically. Her voice was breathless and thick. "You're better… you're awake and you're better!"

Thor couldn't stop staring at her. She was here, solid, warm…  _alive_. Her hands were on his cheeks and grabbing the collar of his shirt and she was only inches away, saying his name over and over again. Thor caught her face in his hands, the motion so sudden and his hold so tight that she started, and he pressed his forehead to hers, breathing in her scent and  _feeling_  her.

"Jane." He whispered. His hands were shaking. "Jane. Jane. Jane."

It filled him till he thought he would be overcome and burst with it… this glorious, overwhelming  _joy_  that sang through his veins and crowed in his heart and rose up and up till he was laughing with it, tears in his eyes.

Jane held him, her fingers tangled and tight in his hair. "Thor."

"You're alive." He breathed. He ran his fingers through her brown tresses, and kissed her lips, catching them again and again and again with his. "You're alive…" He kissed her nose, and her cheek, and her other cheek, and her mouth. Tenderly. Hungrily. Capturing and drinking her in as deeply as he could.

Finally he released her and laid his head back on the pillow, heady with lack of air and  _her_.

Jane opened her eyes, glazed and sparkling, her mouth flushed and swollen. She smiled, and laughed, and then she gently— ever so gently— hit his shoulder. "Don't you ever scare me like that again." She snapped without heat.

"Scare  _you_?" Thor huffed, stroking her cheek with his thumb. A wave of emotion almost overwhelmed him, and he closed his eyes tightly for a second, swallowing. " _Jane_. You  _died_. You were  _gone_." He pulled her close, wrapping his arms all around her and holding her tightly against him, her face pressed into his neck, and he buried his own face in her hair. He breathed; he would never, ever tire of this, of her in his arms and her scent.

For the longest moment they just stayed that way. Then Jane shifted. "I should tell the nurse you're awake." She murmured reluctantly.

Thor felt his arms grow rigid in response. He wasn't ready to let go; wasn't yet over the relief that she was here. Could she feel how hard his heart was beating? The faint tremble as he held her?

Jane slid her arms under his body, and held him. She held him for the longest of times, and then she kissed his shoulder, and his jaw, and his cheek, and his eye. "I'm sorry." She whispered, her voice thick and full. "Thor, I'm so, so sorry. I could hear you screaming as she pulled me away from you. I'm so sorry. But I'm here now." She looked down at him, holding his face between her hands, and her hair brushed against his cheeks. "I'm here." She promised. "We both are." She said, glancing down.

Thor followed her gaze, and he gently put his hands on her belly. Feeling the life within it. Thanking the Creator for this miracle.

"It was Loki," Jane continued. "He was there, and he sent us all back."

"I know." Thor looked up at her. "I don't know… I don't know how I'll ever repay him…" He pulled in a breath, and released it. "He once said I'll never be ready. He was right."

Jane pressed her lips together, her eyes filling. She didn't know what to do about this… there wasn't anything she  _could_  do. She couldn't live forever. She had only once expressed her frustration and helplessness about it. But now he could see the distress, heavy and turbulent, in her eyes.

Thor felt the cool skin of the apple against his side, under the blankets. He reached under, and his fingers closed over it. He felt the magic grow warm beneath his fingertips, and as he pulled it up the soft golden glow lit their faces.

Jane stared. "What…"

"Jane, do you know of Idunn's apples?"

Her eyes darted to his, large and dark and bright. Her lips parted. Then a slow smile, wide and  _knowing_ , spread on her face. "Really?"

Thor took in a breath to steady his suddenly quivering nerves. "Don't ask me how he did it." He said.

She gaped. " _Loki_?"

"I said I'll never be able to repay him." He licked his lips, staring into her lovely face, and he held the apple up. "To do with as you wish." He whispered.

He waited. He wouldn't beg her to eat it, though he knew his eyes were begging silently. He wouldn't try to force her, though he held the apple before her like a sacred offering. He held his tongue, but for one horrible, nightmarish moment he wondered just what he would do if she said  _no_.

Then it was gone. Not just the moment, but the apple. Jane had plucked it from his hand, and without any preamble took a bite from it. She grinned, her eyes sparkling at him.

In a few minutes she finished the apple, and looked at the core.

"That was a  _good_  apple." She said, impressed. "I should save this… Can you imagine what we might find if we study it? We could find something that could slow down old age… we could find a cure for all sorts of diseases…" Then she looked at her other hand, and raised her eyebrows. "My fingers are tingling."

Thor laughed and reached up and caught her face, and pulled her down and kissed her. He was smiling ridiculously and probably looked a fool, but he didn't care.

Jane moved her lips against his, making him sigh, and then she pulled back and looked down at him. Her eyes were glowing and warm. A new flush was on her skin, a flush of new, amazing health. Of new life. "I love you."

Thor brushed a strand of loose brown hair from her face. "I love you, Jane." He whispered. "And I love you."

* * *

The air was bright and crisp and fresh. The rich green leaves quivered slightly in the breeze, their sound running up and down the orchard like nature's own wind chimes. Idunn paused in her work and straightened up, running the back of her hand across her forehead and blowing a strand of golden hair from her eyes. A mound of ripped and torn vines rose up behind her, a testament to what she'd walked in on that morning— the complete and total invasion of her orchard by curling, winding vines.

The last of the invasive vine rose up before her, curling around the trunk of the tree and sprouting glass green leaves and white and cream flowers, petals long and full and curving out and speckled with glittering gold.

Idunn put her hands on her waist and stared at it, and then shook her head, the corner of her mouth pulling to one side humorlessly. Still, her eyes shadowed with regret.

The flowers  _were_  very beautiful, after all. The most beautiful yet.

She turned to look around. A moment later she thought of the perfect vessel, and went to retrieve it. It was a wooden box, very wide and very deep, and she put it on her hand cart and then filled the box to the top with rich, dark earth.

She returned to the tree, pushing the cart before her and setting it close to the roots. With shovel in hand she cut into the earth, carefully and methodically, till she'd a good portion of it, and then she carefully lifted it… earth, roots, vine and all, and transferred it to the wooden box, planting it in the dark dirt with great care. Once its base was secured she slowly and attentively followed the vine up the tree and found its tip, and she unwound it from around the trunk and wound it again over her arm. She set the coil of vine on top of the dirt in the wooden box, and nodded in satisfaction. Somewhere she would get a tall trellis and set it within the box, to give the vine something to climb.

Grasping the handles of the cart she pushed it onward, through the gate and out of the orchard, into the small private garden just outside of her small, modest dwelling. She stopped at the end of the last row. Careful not to drop the box she removed it from the cart, and with tender attention she settled it next to another wooden box of equal size. Then she stepped back, and brushed the dirt from her hands, and looked around, admiring the many, many, many rows of wooden boxes, all full and flowing with invasive vines of every shape, size, and kind. The first few rows were quaint, though peculiar. Leaves meant to smell like blueberries were blue and sticky and smelled like nothing. Flowers meant to be golden like cheese  _smelled_  instead, like a great, aged wheel. But gradually they got better, more creative, more clever.

This last one was certainly a glory. The breeze blew across the white and golden blossoms, and the clear, pure sound of gently tinkling bells filled her ears, and the scent of sweet, spicy apples teased her nose. Her favorite scent.

Idunn smiled.

She returned to the orchard and to the tree with her cart, to retrieve her shovel and the enormous mountain of vines. Once again she pulled on her leather gloves. As she did so she cast a narrowed ochre eye up into the shadowed branches of the tree.

"Mischievous imp."

There was a chuckle, and the sound of a page turning. "You love me." Came the amused reply.

Idunn laughed, then shook her head and muttered to herself, going about transferring the great pile of vines to her cart.

On his relaxed perch in the branches, Loki turned another page in his book, and smiled.


End file.
